


Fallen (Into Your Loving Arms)

by EmeraldOcean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence at the beginning of season 9, Anal Sex, Baby in a Trenchcoat, Because he's a jealous asshole, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Bottom Dean, Charlie Ships It, Confused Castiel, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Domestic Castiel, Domestic Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Except maybe Crowley, Fantasizing, Fluff and Smut, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Jealous Castiel, Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Misunderstandings, Naive Castiel, Newly Human Castiel, Non-Binary Castiel, Not Canon Compliant after season 8, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Castiel, Pining Dean, Possessive Dean, Rimming, Sam Ships It, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Castiel, Slight feminization, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Tags May Change, Top Castiel, Top Dean, Virgin Castiel, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldOcean/pseuds/EmeraldOcean
Summary: Metatron stole Castiel's grace and caused all the angels to fall from Heaven. Now Castiel is faced with living life as a human and everything that that entails. Every day brings with it new challenges, but fortunately it also brings new rewards.[Alternate season 9 story line where Sam never gets possessed by an angel and Cas never has to leave the Bunker.]





	1. I'll Just Wait Here, Then

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will mostly focus on Cas and his acclimation to life lived as a human, as well as Dean's reactions to everything that comes along with that. It's totally non-canon compliant after the season 8 finale. 
> 
> I haven't decided how long this will get or how plotty it will be, but the answers to both of those questions are, 'probably not very.' This is just something that's been occupying my mind and causing block for my other two WIPs, so I just felt the need to get it out so it's not taking up valuable space in my brain. I'm mostly just writing it for my own gratification, but if anyone else finds any joy in reading it, well I guess that's just a bonus. ;) 
> 
> As per usual, I've added some tags that I know will show up at some point, but others won't be added until they happen or until I think of them... whichever comes first. Ugh... tagging is hard. 
> 
> So, without further ado...

_"Just stay right where you are, Cas. I’m coming for you."_

Castiel hung up the payphone’s receiver and took a deep breath before turning around to take in his surroundings. Dean had told him to stay where he was, until the Hunter reached him, but Castiel knew that it would take a whole day for the Winchesters to drive from New York to Colorado, and though the angel had never had a problem staying in one place for that length of time before, without the ability to go ‘invisible girl’ (as Dean referred to it), doing so now may cause unwanted attention from the humans in his vicinity.

Besides, Castiel figured, this was probably one of those times when Dean’s instructions may not be quite as literal as they appeared. Especially if what Dean had told him was correct, and there where thousands of angels wandering the Earth, confused and angry, and well aware of the part he’d played in their literal downfall. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. He hadn’t intended for his brethren to be cast out of Heaven, losing his own grace in the process. 

At the thought of his lost grace, Castiel suddenly realized that he had been standing frozen to the same spot for what had to be at least fifteen minutes. There was a small child staring at him from the back of a car parked at the gas pump, and his vessel’s feet were beginning to tingle. He lifted each foot, one after the other, and shook them to dispel the sensation. 

“Hey, man… are you ok?” Castiel looked up once again to see that the child’s father was also staring at him, though he was standing next to the car, apparently having just completed refueling his vehicle. 

“Um… yes, I’m fine. Thank you,” Castiel responded.

“You sure? You look a little lost there. Do you need help?”

“Thank you, no. I’m just waiting for my friend.”

The man retained his skeptical look but nodded at Castiel, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Oh, ok. Well, good luck then.”

Castiel returned the man’s nod, watching as he got into the driver’s seat and drove away. He wondered why he would need luck on his side to wait for the Winchesters to come pick him up, but then he remembered the fallen angels and thought that a little bit of luck probably wouldn’t go amiss after all. The thought also made him realize that standing out in the open like this probably wasn’t the best idea. 

Just then his gaze landed on a sign that said ‘picnic area,’ with an arrow pointing to a path that led behind the gas station, and he decided that that was probably as good a place as any to await Dean’s arrival. Stumbling only slightly from the lingering numbness in his feet, Castiel straightened and then headed down the dirt path. 

***

“Are you good to go?” Dean knew that he was probably being a bit more of an impatient dick than what was strictly necessary, but now that Sam seemed to be on the mend, he couldn’t stand to waste one minute longer _not_ on the road high-tailing it to Longmont, Colorado. 

Cas was there – graceless and alone – and all of Heaven was gunning for him. He didn’t know exactly what had gone down with Metadouche, but whatever it was, Dean was sure it hadn’t been Cas’s fault. The poor, naïve bastard always had the best intentions, even if they often ended in the worst possible outcomes. And Dean was positive that this latest fuck-up was just like all the others. And Metatron sure as shit had better plan on keeping his hobbit ass in Heaven, ‘cause Dean has an angel blade with that fucker’s name on it.

“Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go get Cas.” Sam ended his statement with a cough, but it wasn’t bloody, so Dean chose to consider that progress and take his brother at his word, reaching down a hand to help him up from where Sam was seated on the hospital bed. The moose wasn’t going to be winning any ‘Miss Canada’ pageants anytime soon, but at least he was breathing, and conscious, and even ambulatory to boot. Which reminded him…

“Zeke, man, thank you. It’s nice to know that there’s one more angel out there that isn’t just a giant bag of feathery dicks.”

“Dean!” Sam’s exclamation interrupted Dean’s offer of a handshake to the tall, stoic angel.

“What? I said he _wasn’t_ a-“

“It’s ok, Sam,” Ezekiel assured the Hunter. He offered up his own hand for Dean to shake, which he did, with alacrity. “I’m just glad that I could help. Though I wish I had been able to heal you completely, Sam. Although I’m afraid that my grace just simply isn’t at full power after my unceremonious fall from Heaven.” 

“No, Ezekiel, please… you’ve done more than enough. Besides, you said that I will heal completely eventually, right? It will just take some time.” Sam coughed again, but he was steady on his feet as the three made their way down the hall and into the elevator.

“Yes, Sam. The spiritual damage to your soul has been reversed. It’s only some lingering physical damage to your body that remains. And that will continue to get better day by day. You’re a strong, virile human being, Sam. You have a beautiful soul that will aid in your return to full health.” 

Sam smiled awkwardly at the angel’s comments and Dean couldn’t help interjecting, “Woah there Zeke… ‘beautiful soul?’ Is that kind of talk really necessary?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Dean,” Ezekiel said, placing a comforting hand on the elder Winchester’s shoulder once they’d reached Dean’s beloved Impala in the underground parking garage. “Your soul is beautiful as well. Actually,” he continued, gazing into Dean’s eyes, “It’s the brightest soul that I’ve ever seen… quite breathtaking in fact.” 

“Riiiiiiiight… Okay then… Sam?” Dean looked to his brother, imploring without words for him to say something to cut through the sudden weirdness of their conversation.

“Again, Ezekiel, thank you so much for your help. Dean already gave you our phone numbers so if there’s anything we can do for you, just give us a call.” Sam grasped the angel on the shoulder and gave him a light squeeze before heading toward the passenger side door. 

“Of course, Sam. And if you’re ever in need of my help again, pray to me and I will contact you.” Ezekiel had assured the brothers that he had other plans and did not wish to have them drive him anywhere or do anything else for him. Dean didn’t really like the idea of being indebted to the angel, but he pushed that thought down to worry about later. Cas had vouched for him and Cas was out there waiting for Dean – that was all he could think about now. 

Moments later, Baby roared to life and Dean wasted no time in getting her on the road. 

_Hold on, angel,_ Dean thought. _I’m coming for you._

***

“Are you sure this is the address that Cas gave you, Dean? I don’t see him.” Dean pulled up to the old gas station and killed the engine, craning his neck in all directions looking for a trench-coated figure with messy, dark hair. 

“I’m sure, Sam.” At least, he was pretty sure that this was the right address. At this point, Dean was going on three days with no sleep and everything was getting pretty fuzzy around the edges. “Go inside and see what you can find out, I’ll have a look around out here.” 

Sam nodded and headed into the shop and Dean walked up to the pay phone and started from there. There was no one in sight from where he stood, so he followed the building around to its side, noticing a dirt path that led out back. 

“ _Cas!_ ” Dean whisper-shouted to the vicinity, then began to follow the path, one hand resting lightly on the handle of the gun tucked into his jeans. The path wasn’t very long, and it soon opened up into a small clearing filled with picnic tables and small, charcoal grills. He noticed Cas immediately – the angel’s still form seated, his upper body slumped over the top of a table. “Cas!”

Dean rushed to his friend’s side, crouching over him as he grasped his shoulders and shook for all he was worth. “Cas! No!” Dean’s heart was jack-hammering in his chest – the lack of sleep mixing with the sheer terror making him feel as though he would throw up. “Cas, please!” 

Castiel jerked up to a sitting position, his blue eyes blown wide with shock and confusion. “Dean?” 

Dean breathed a gusty sigh of relief and crumpled down onto the bench next to Cas. “Jesus, Cas, don’t _do_ that!” Dean swallowed past the panicked lump in his throat and looked over his friend. He didn’t look too good. The blue-eyed man had dark circles under his eyes, his usual five o’clock shadow was longer than Dean had seen in quite some time, and his full lips looked even more chapped than usual.

“My apologies, Dean. I seem to have fallen asleep.” He stopped to clear his throat, his normally deep voice sounding even raspier than it usually did. “You wouldn’t happen to have any water, would you?”

Dean placed his hand on Cas’s shoulder, squeezing gently while letting it linger on the soft material of the trench coat. “Of course, buddy. Come on. Sam’s in the shop.” Dean got back to his feet and didn’t even hesitate before helping Cas up as well. His friend swayed a bit when he was upright and Dean snagged an arm around his waist to keep him from falling. “Have you had anything to eat or drink, Cas?”

“No,” Cas responded, averting his gaze from Dean’s face. “I’m an angel, Dean. I don’t need-“

“You’re an angel without your grace, Cas. That means you’re basically human. And humans need food. And water. And sleep.” Cas narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Dean and the Hunter decided to drop his tirade before he could be struck down for the sheer amount of hypocrisy falling from his lips at the moment. “Come on,” he said instead, pulling the angel along down the path and back around to the front of the gas station. 

Sam was just exiting the shop as they stumbled into view, a couple of plastic grocery bags grasped in his hands. “Cas! It’s so good to see you, man!” He rushed forward to open the backseat of the Impala and Dean deposited the exhausted man into the seat. 

“You too, Sam. Thank you for coming to get me… both of you.” Dean reached out to take one of the grocery bags and pawed through it until he found a bottle of water. He twisted the lid off forcefully and then thrust it into Cas’s face. The angel glared at the bottle but accepted it, sipping sparingly at first, and then chugging half the bottle in one go.

“Woah now, buddy. Go easy on the water. Drinking too much, too fast can make it come right back up.” Dean wrapped his hand around Cas’s on the bottle and lowered it gently. His friend’s fingers were cold to the touch and he fought down the urge to rub them between his own two warm ones. The sudden want to wrap the angel up in his arms and warm him with the heat of his body was strong, and a little unsettling to Dean. It was probably just the sleep deprivation, he figured. 

Cas nodded his understanding and brought the bottle back to his lips before taking a smaller sip. Dean looked on approvingly and then turned back to his brother. “Do you think you can drive us to the nearest motel, Sam? I wouldn’t ask but I don’t think I should be driving. I believe I’ve officially hit my limit on continual consciousness, and so has he,” he said, gesturing toward Cas. 

“Yeah, Dean, no problem.” Dean handed over the keys and then told Cas with shoves and hand gestures that he should slide over and let Dean get in the backseat with him. Sam looked at him questioningly, but Cas didn’t seem to care – simply crawling over to the opposite side of the car and letting his head fall back against the seat and his eyes slip closed. 

“I think I remember seeing a motel not too far from here,” Sam said as he got in the front seat and started up the engine.

“Yeah, ok,” Dean mumbled back. He grabbed the mostly-empty water bottle out of Cas’s hand before it could fall to the floor, and then squeaked in undignified surprise when Cas’s head slumped down to rest on his shoulder – the angel already fast asleep. 

The sight caused conflicting emotions within the Hunter. On the one hand, it scared Dean shitless. Cas without his grace was vulnerable. ‘Baby in a trench coat’ Dean had once called him. And while he had said it with derision, it had been a defense mechanism – using insults to mask the very real fear that Dean had of losing Cas in his weakened state. And this time was no different. Humanity was a weakness that could, and would eventually, prove fatal. Which was definitely not something that Dean was ready to deal with in regards to his angel. 

Shit. _His angel?_ Which brings him to the other hand… Watching Cas sleep…Feeling the weight of the other man against him as he looked down on his peaceful, beautiful face gave him the unfamiliar urge to cradle that face in his hand and drop a kiss to his closed eyelids as he carded his fingers through that unruly dark hair. Dean wondered idly whether it felt as soft as it looked…

_Sleep,_ Dean reminded himself, straightening up somewhat and turning his head to point his gaze to the scenery passing quickly by outside the window. He was only thinking these thoughts because he desperately needed sleep himself. 

Sam was right and it really wasn’t all that long before they reached a roadside motel with a lit-up ‘vacancy’ sign. Dean stayed in the car with Cas as Sam went in to rent a room. The sudden silence was jarring, though the soft sounds of Cas’s breathing was somewhat hypnotic. They couldn’t stay here though, and before long Dean saw Sam leave the office and head back toward the Impala. 

“Cas,” he whispered, giving in and carding his fingers through his friend’s raven locks. _Fuck,_ he thought. It was even softer than he had imagined. “Cas, wake up. We’re here.”

Cas whined softly and snuggled even closer into Dean’s side – his breath ghosting over Dean’s collarbone as he burrowed his face into Dean’s neck. For some reason, Dean didn’t really want to have to move the angel from his current position, but the sound of the front door opening jarred Cas awake and he sat up, blinking groggily up at Dean. 

“Come on, man. Let’s get you inside and horizontal. Then you can go back to sleep, ok?” Cas attempted to blink the sleep from his eyes before rubbing one of them with a knuckle like a sleepy child. The word ‘adorable’ popped into Dean’s head and he quickly shook it to dispel the foolish notion before opening his own door and getting out, dragging the yawning angel out behind him. 

Sam had grabbed not only the grocery bags from the front seat, but also both of their duffle bags, and was walking back up to meet them at the front of the car. “Come on,” he said, taking the lead. “This is us… straight ahead.” He unlocked the door and walked in, Dean and Cas following him inside. “Oh, shit. I didn’t think… I guess I should have gotten two rooms. There are only two beds, but now there are three of us.” 

Dean spoke without really thinking about what he was saying. “Don’t worry about it, Sammy. Me and Cas can share, right, Cas?” Cas merely grunted in what Dean guessed was agreement, for he shuffled forward and flopped down on the nearest of the two beds – though he was careful to leave half of the bed open for Dean to occupy. 

Dean chuckled to himself and shook his head fondly at the angel, but walked forward to attempt to help him get more comfortable. “If you’re sure…” Sam didn’t sound convinced, but he let the subject drop when Dean waved off his concerns and knelt down to remove Cas’s shoes for him. 

“It’s fine, Sam. It’s not worth the expense.” He stood back up once Cas’s shoes were off, and then proceeded to manhandle his friend into a sitting position. “Give me a hand, Sam.” Dean grasped Cas by the chin and tilted his face up saying, “Cas… hey, wake up man. We gotta get these jackets off you.” Cas glared at Dean for once again being woken, but he helped Sam to help him remove his trench coat and his suit coat. Dean then loosened his tie and slipped it carefully over his head. “Alright. Now stand up for a second so I can pull the covers down.” 

Doing as he was told, Cas stood long enough for Dean to yank down the covers, then he clumsily crawled into the bed and laid his head down on the pillow, curling his hands up under his chin and lying on his side with his face turned toward Dean’s side of the bed. Dean followed suit – taking off his boots, jacket, and over-shirt. Though he also opted to remove his jeans – the scratchy material feeling especially uncomfortable after wearing them for so long. 

He spared a quick glance to see that Sam was similarly attired before they both copied Cas’s action of crawling into bed – preferably to sleep for about a million years. The last thing Dean saw before he closed his eyes was Cas’s face. And the last conscious thought that went through Dean’s head before succumbing to oblivion was, _I could get used to this._


	2. Belt Buckles and Beef Jerky

Consciousness came slowly to Castiel. He tensed at first, the unaccustomed darkness coming as a surprise to the angel. It had gotten quite dark in the picnic area during the night while waiting for Dean, but the lights from the gas station had made it bright enough to see pretty clearly. Now though, Castiel was having trouble determining where he was and what was going on.

He darted his eyes around the darkened room, finally landing on a green glow emanating from nearby. They were numbers. ‘3:13’ shone through the darkness and Castiel realized it was a clock. He vaguely remembered following Sam and Dean into a motel room at some point and the recollection allowed him to relax enough to close his eyes again – the drowsy warmth he was experiencing momentarily overtaking the feeling of urgency that had caused him to wake.

“ _Mmm…_ ” A low hum next to his ear and a muscular arm tightening around his waist caused Castiel’s eyes to shoot back open – his body tensing once more against the large, warm form pressed up close behind him. “Jus- lem mk fulgm…”

“Dean?” Castiel couldn’t understand the words that the man was speaking, but he would recognize that particular voice anywhere. 

“ _Shhh…_ ” Dean responded, nuzzling his face into the back of Castiel’s neck. The angel felt a shiver go down his spine at the feel of soft lips and warm breath ghosting over the tender skin, but it was nothing compared to the quick jolt of heat that shot straight to his groin when Dean rolled his hips and Castiel felt the hard length of the Hunter’s erect penis press insistently against the angel’s backside. 

An unaccustomed sense of panic was quickly rising in Castiel’s chest with every passing moment that he lay there immobile. It was fear that he was feeling, but not the usual type of fear. It was warm and paralyzing, stealing his breath and causing his heart rate to double in his rib cage. 

An answering throb from his own stiffening member caused an uncomfortable sensation in the vicinity of his bladder, and Castiel was suddenly reminded of the probable reason of his awakening in the first place. “Dean, I… I believe I need to urinate.”

The Hunter’s only response was to crowd even closer, his arm tightening even more, squeezing Castiel and his full bladder. For the first time it occurred to Castiel that Dean might not actually be awake. Which, if he’d given it even a little bit of thought, would make a lot more sense than whatever it was that Castiel originally thought was happening between them. 

“Dean!” 

“Hm? Wha? Was goin on?” Dean snorted awake and jerked back as if burned, sitting up and rubbing his face before scanning the room for potential threats.

“Um… I have to, uh…” Castiel rose from the bed and turned to face Dean, then gestured to his crotch. “… relieve myself.” 

“Oh! Right! Yeah, uh… the bathroom is over there…” He pointed to a closed door just behind Castiel, who nodded his thanks and retreated awkwardly to the even darker room. A quick grope to the wall resulted in a switch being flicked and suddenly Castiel was blinded by an overhead light as bright as the noon-day sun on the equator. 

After a moment to let his eyes adjust to the brightness, Castiel stumbled forward and lifted the toilet seat, then dropped his hands to fumble with the buckle of his belt. He yanked on it, pulling this way and that, and it belatedly occurred to him that he’d never actually removed the item manually before. 

In the mental hospital, an orderly had assisted him in removing his clothes and changing into the hospital-issued scrubs, and when he had returned from Purgatory, he had used his grace to reacquire Jimmy Novak’s original outfit. Frustration was building the longer he went without successfully freeing himself, so he was startled when he heard a voice behind him.

“Uh, Cas?” He turned around to see Dean standing in the open doorway, his eyes squinting in the bright light. “Just so you know… this kind of thing usually takes place behind closed doors.” Castiel filed that information away for future reference, but it was difficult to think about much other than his infernal belt and the growing urgency he was feeling. “Wait, what exactly is it that you’re doing in here, man?” 

Giving up with a frustrated sigh, Castiel gestured to his belt and then threw his hands up in the air. “I’m trying to urinate, but this damnable strip of tanned cow’s hide simply will not yield to my will.” 

“You can’t get your belt unbuckled?” Dean asked, and Castiel nodded in affirmation. “Ok, well, I think I can help you with that. If that’s ok with you, I mean.”

“Thank you, Dean. That would be very kind of you.” Dean pushed off from the door frame and approached him slowly, the fixed eye-contact making Castiel feel somewhat like he imagined a deer felt like when faced with a pair of shining headlights. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and stuttered out, “I-I didn’t realize it would be… be this hard.” 

Dean chuckled and reached his hands down to the angel’s uncooperative buckle saying, “The hard part is half the fun.” 

Castiel squinted his eyes and quirked his head in confusion, the inquisitive, “What?” soon forgotten in the feel of Dean’s nimble fingers unbuckling his belt before deftly moving on to undo both the button and zipper of Castiel’s pants. 

Dean’s cocky smirk and twinkling eyes momentarily made Castiel forget exactly what he was supposed to be accomplishing right at that moment, but the gentle brush of Dean’s fingers against the sensitive head of his penis as he dragged the zipper down quickly reminded him of the task at hand. 

“Thank you, I…” He dropped his own hands down to keep the trousers from sliding down his hips and took a step back, Dean copying the movement in the opposite direction.

“Yeah, of course…” he said, walking backward out of the bathroom and pulling the door closed behind him. 

Castiel shoved down the front of his pants and the plain, white boxer shorts beneath them, using his other hand to free himself as he stood in front of the toilet. The encounter with Dean had caused him to harden somewhat, and he was frustrated anew when his state of arousal appeared to be hampering his ability to empty his bladder. 

“ _Try turning on the sink,_ ” Dean said, his voice coming muffled through the thick wood of the door. Castiel was once again confused by the Hunter’s words but did as Dean suggested, stepping over to the sink to turn on the faucet before stepping back to the toilet. He tried to focus on the sound of the rushing water, instead of the image of Dean’s smiling eyes, which seemed to be branded into the backs of his eyelids, and after another small eternity he felt his vessel finally let go – the overwhelming feeling of relief causing him to lean forward and rest his weight against the wall with one palm. 

When he was finished, he zipped up the zipper and buttoned his button, but chose not to attempt to buckle up his belt again. He flushed the toilet and turned off the sink, then opened the door, only to find Dean still standing on the other side. 

“Did you wash your hands?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and blocking the way out of the bathroom. 

“No…” Castiel answered, lifting his hands up to gaze searchingly at his open palms. “Was I supposed to?” 

“Yeah, Cas, you were supposed to.” He guided Castiel back to the sink and proceeded to rip open the packaging surrounding the small bar of soap that the hotel had been so kind as to leave for them. Then he handed it to Castiel and turned on the sink – this time pushing both of the levers that were situated to either side of the faucet, instead of just one, as Castiel had done. “There are three rules when it comes to taking a piss. One,” he began, gesturing over his shoulder. “You don’t leave the bathroom door wide open. Two,” he continued, pointing to the sink. “You wash your hands when you’re done.” 

Castiel proceeded to wet his hands, the water warm and the soap slippery between his palms, a mild, citrusy scent wafting up from the suds. “And three,” he concluded, reaching over to grab a small, folded towel, which he then handed to Castiel to dry his hands with. “If you shake more than twice, well then you’re just playing with yourself.” 

Shake? Shake what? He was about to inquire further when Dean took the towel out of his hand and tossed it down on the counter, then proceeded to grasp him around the upper arm and guide him out of the bathroom with a gentle shove. “Now get, I need to drain the old lizard too.” 

Dean gently pushed the door closed in his face, so Castiel moved over to sit on the edge of the bed. The act of emptying his bladder had greatly improved Castiel’s comfort level, but he was disappointed to realize that he still felt a sort of gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he had been mistaken and the endeavor hadn’t been quite as successful as he was led to believe. 

Suddenly, a loud rumble emanated from his core and Castiel was once again feeling a sense of panic. It was completely different than his earlier bought though – this time there was no warmth, none of the anticipatory excitement that he had felt when Dean had been pressed closely around him.

The sound of the bathroom door opening again brought Castiel’s attention to Dean’s reemergence into the room. “Dean!” he exclaimed, placing his hand on his gut and looking imploringly up at the green-eyed man. “I’m worried that there may be something wrong with my vessel.” 

“What?” Dean’s lazy grin disappeared from his face as a look of concern took over. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t know. I-“ A loud growling noise interrupted his attempted explanation and Castiel looked to Dean for guidance. Instead of the panic or worry that Castiel was expecting though, Dean simply began to chuckle as he walked over to the dresser. There were a couple of plastic grocery bags set on top, which seemed to be Dean’s destination, for he opened one up and looked through it before taking out several items and then walking back over to seat himself beside Castiel on the bed. 

“You’re just hungry, man. Here, try this…” He ripped open a crinkly, blue package and handed it to Castiel, a strong, fragrant aroma wafting out and causing another growl to rumble in the angel’s gut. “And don’t call your body a ‘vessel,’ dude. It’s _your_ body. Only yours. Jimmy’s been gone for a long time now.” 

Castiel peeked into the little pouch, but just as he was about to reach his hand in to scoop out some of the contents, Dean snatched it back and said, “Wait! Um, speaking of Jimmy… he didn’t have any food allergies, did he? There are peanuts in this so I just wanted to make sure…”

“No, Dean. Jimmy was able to digest all foodstuffs without any ill effects. I don’t believe that I’ll have any problems in that regard.” Dean handed back the little pouch and grabbed another one from the mattress next to him. This one was red and black and when he tore off the top, a very strong, slightly sweet, though very pungent smell mixed with the more earthy scent that was coming off the first one. 

He watched in fascination as Dean pulled out a small, flat strip of reddish-brown meat, which he placed the end of in his mouth and tore off a bite. The sight was mesmerizing for some reason that Castiel couldn’t fathom and it distracted him from the hunger pangs that were still loudly making themselves known in his own stomach. 

“Dude, eat something before your stomach digests itself.” Castiel looked down at the blue pouch in his hand and then back up to Dean’s face – his sharp teeth still chewing on the leathery piece of food. “You want the beef jerky instead?” 

“Uh… no, this is fine.” He reached in and took a handful of the contents, then deposited it into his mouth. Saliva flooded inside, a glorious combination of salty and sweet invading his taste buds as he continued to chew. He closed his eyes in bliss momentarily, and then opened them back up to look down at the pouch. He turned it over in his hand and read the words ‘trail mix,’ which also confused him. “I wasn’t aware that there were any trails made out of peanuts, Dean. Are you sure this is completely edible?” 

He took another handful of the delicious mix and studied its contents. He could pick out peanuts and raisins and small, multi-colored rounds which were inscribed with the symbols ‘m&m’ on them. Perhaps they were small pebbles? He’d seen many trails made with pebbles. Though, he hadn’t had any problem masticating the flavorful mix, so maybe they weren’t pebbles after all. 

Dean choked slightly and coughed to clear his throat, reaching next to him and grabbing a bottle of water which he opened up and gulped rapidly. When he wasn’t in danger of suffocating anymore, he laughed and said, “The mix is made _for_ the trail, Cas, not _of_ the trail. It’s road food, man. Quick and easy, and portable, you know? Here,” he continued, switching pouches with Castiel. “Try the jerky.” 

There was a slightly greasy feel to the jerky, but it was still fairly dry, and very chewy. He could feel the meat getting stuck between his teeth like strings, though the taste was very good. It was sweet and savory, a combination that he was coming to find was quite pleasing to his palate. 

They passed the next little while in a companionable silence, only the sound of chewing and Sam’s soft snores punctuating the quiet. Castiel ate two more pieces of the jerky and several handfuls of the so-called ‘trail mix,’ and washed the whole lot down with his own bottle of water. 

He surprised both himself and Dean when a loud belch escaped his mouth after finishing his water, and Castiel couldn’t help the warm flush that rose to his cheeks at the embarrassing bodily function. “My apologies,” he mumbled, replacing the cap on the now-empty water bottle. Instead of being disgusted though, Dean just chuckled and shook his head, then let out a matching burp of his own. 

“Nothing to apologize for, Cas. Humans burp. Just like humans eat, and drink, and pee. It’s just the next thing in a long line of things that you’re going to have to get used to.” He collected the empty food and drink containers from Castiel and stood to throw them away, then walked over to look through his personal duffle bag. He came back holding the brown, leather pouch that Castiel knew Dean kept his toiletries in, then seated himself back on the bed and began looking through it.

“Aha!” he exclaimed, holding up a small, white, plastic square. He flipped open a flap on the front and then pulled out a long, white string – the subtle scent of mint hitting Castiel’s nose. “Here, take this and watch me.” 

Dean wrapped the ends of the string around each of his pointer fingers, then pulled it taut like a miniature garrote. Pausing to smirk at Castiel, he then opened his mouth wide and stuck his fingers and the string inside and wedged the string between two of his teeth before sawing back and forth. He pulled out the string and then moved onto the next separation, repeating the action along the whole row of teeth. 

“You floss your teeth?” Castiel wondered aloud. The evidence was directly before him, but for some reason he was still very surprised to find out that the Hunter was quite this invested in dental hygiene. 

“Of course I floss my teeth,” Dean responded. “You think this job comes with a dental plan?” Castiel shook his head slowly back and forth. No, he was almost positive that Dean did not have access to any form of health insurance. Though, the angel did take it upon himself to monitor both Dean and Sam’s current state of health whenever he was around and help to keep them well on a regular basis. Of course, it occurred to Castiel suddenly that now that he was basically human, he would no longer be able to perform this service for the brothers. The thought caused pain and fear to spike in the angel’s chest, but Dean’s voice served to distract him. 

“Gotta keep these whites pearly!” He flashed his bright, beautiful smile at Castiel, then gestured to the unused string sitting limp in Castiel’s hand. “Come on, Cas. Your turn. Floss away, my friend.” 

It was an awkward thing to maneuver the floss around in his mouth, but he couldn’t deny that it felt good to get the little bits of stuck food out from between his teeth. Dean had gotten up to throw away his string in the small garbage can by the dresser, and by the time Castiel completed his task, the Hunter was holding the can out for him to deposit the used bit of floss. 

“Alright, now I don’t have an extra toothbrush so we’ll just skip brushing tonight. We’ll pick one up for you in the morning and I’ll show you how to do that too.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

“No problem, Cas. This all must be a bit of a mind fuck for you, huh?” Instead of sitting back down on Castiel’s side of the bed, Dean went around to the opposite side and climbed in – settling the covers over his lap as he leaned back up against the headboard.

“Well, if by ‘mind fuck’ you mean that I find myself facing new and confusing circumstances with every passing hour, then yes, existing without my grace is very much ‘mind fucking’ me.” Castiel couldn’t help but notice the slight flush on Dean’s cheeks and he wondered what it was that had the Hunter blushing like that, but instead of saying anything in response, Dean tugged on the section of blankets that Castiel was sitting on, motioning with a hand for the angel to join him up at the head of the bed. 

Once Castiel was settled – mirroring Dean’s position – the Hunter said, “Sam’s still zonked and honestly, I could do with a couple more hours’ shut eye, so why don’t you try to go back to sleep too, yeah?”

Castiel nodded and followed Dean in sliding down to a more fully horizontal position on the mattress. His heartbeat picked back up as he remembered the configuration that the two of them had been in upon waking, and he wondered if Dean would want to return to such a one as they resumed their slumber. 

He felt a sharp stab of disappointment though, when he heard, “Night, Cas,” and he watched as Dean punched down his pillow into a more rounded shape before rolling onto his side away from Castiel. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Castiel shot back up to a sitting position and exclaimed, “There are bed bugs?!” 

Sam let out a loud snort from across the room, lifting his head from the pillow and muttering, “Huh? Wha? Wha happen?” 

“Go back to sleep, Sammy,” Dean ordered. The younger Winchester grunted and flopped his head back down onto the pillow, his rhythmic snores resuming almost immediately. “And no, Cas, there aren’t actually any bed bugs… at least I hope there aren’t,” he added under his breath. “It’s just something you say.”

“Oh.” Castiel lied back down and pulled the covers up over his shoulder, reveling in the comforting warmth that he could feel generated from Dean’s body underneath the blankets. He shifted a little bit closer to his friend’s lax form and smiled to himself when Dean didn’t move any further away. “Well, then _you_ don’t let the bed bugs bite either, Dean.” 

The sound of Dean’s soft laughter inspired a warm, bubbly feeling to take up residence inside Castiel’s chest as he closed his eyes and snuggled down further under the covers. He supposed there were some things about being human that weren’t going to be too bad after all. 

“I won’t, buddy,” Dean said fondly. “I won’t.”


	3. The Road (back) to Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tenses can be hard sometime. 
> 
> This chapter follows a sort of stream-of-consciousness format, so I apologize if the tenses get a little messed up at times. I went back and edited but if I missed anything, um... sorry? 
> 
> Also, a quick note about tags: I've added some additional tags (lots of smutty ones, fyi) for this chapter. There's one I didn't want to add though because it's not strictly accurate, so to speak, but I do believe that it bears mentioning because it's something that I know there are mixed feelings about among readers. Sooo... I'm going to put the spoilery tag in the end notes and if you're curious, read that first. It's minor, and going on in Dean's head, not in the actual real world, so that's my excuse for not tagging it in the tagging section. I'm also not sure if there will be anything similar in the rest of the fic, but there may be, so if there is, then I may reassess and decide to add the official tag later. 
> 
> Anyway... hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Oh! And good luck to everyone playing GISHWHES this week. I hope for all our sakes that it's a fun and rewarding experience that doesn't end in tears and/or jail time. ;)

Dean had tried, ok? He really had. After the mortifying experience of waking up clinging to his best friend like some horned up Yorkie, Dean had been careful to keep to his side of the bed when they went back to sleep. 

So it really wasn’t his fault when the daylight hours brought with it both consciousness and an angel-turned-human with some serious bedhead stuck like glue to his side. _I’m the one who gripped you tight,_ indeed. 

And while the current predicament that Dean found himself in wasn’t in any way what he would label ‘expected,’ he was man enough to admit (even if just to himself) that it was the kind of rare occasion where the unexpected wasn’t completely terrible. 

Of course, that didn’t really excuse how Dean chose to wrap his arm around Cas’s shoulders and pull him in close, running his fingers through the completely debauched-looking thatch of dark hair with one hand, while rubbing small circles on his back with the other. And it also didn’t explain why Dean didn’t even attempt to retreat right away when Cas’s hips began a sinuous rolling motion that caused the slumbering angel’s morning wood to press hot and hard up against Dean’s barely-clothed hip. 

The action caused his own dick to perk up and the sudden urge to wake the man up by rolling him onto his back and rutting against him while kissing him breathless wasn’t the only inappropriate thought that was clouding his mind and adding fuel to the metaphorical fire that had begun to spread throughout his body on its way to his quickly hardening cock – it was merely the first…

 _That neck…_ Dean could see the angel’s pulse thump steadily at the base of his throat – the taut column of muscle and sinew as enticing to Dean as a juicy double cheeseburger with all the fixins. Placing his lips on Cas’s warm skin… kissing and licking the salt-sweet taste of him… sucking onto that lightly tanned, blank canvas until it darkened with burst blood vessels – a wordless proclamation to any and all that Dean Winchester had been there… It was all a clear course of action which Dean would be more than happy to carry out. 

_Ugh._ Despite Dean’s penchant for not looking before he leaps, the Hunter did actually spend quite a bit of time visualizing possible plans of attack before throwing himself headfirst into dangerous or challenging situations. And yeah, mentally mapping out the terrain of Cas’s body – inch by glorious inch – was probably better than just blindly stepping foot upon foreign lands without even glancing at a map. But torturing himself by planning excursions through the hills and valleys of Caslandia – excursions that Dean couldn’t even imagine being able to afford to take – well, Dean already knew that that wasn’t a very ethical or practical use of his time. 

Then again… no one would accuse Dean of having much use for ethics or practicality as a first line of defense. No… Dean’s _usual_ m.o. is to utilize his irresistible charm in order to get his rocks off and damn the consequences. That it’s not usually a man’s body helping him to accomplish that goal wasn’t really the problem. It wouldn’t be the first time that Dean’s been attracted to a tall, masculine form… wouldn’t even be the first time that Dean has longed to wrap his lips around another man’s hard, dripping cock – or to bend a man over and fuck him full.

No, the problem stemmed from the fact that the current star of Dean’s lust-fueled imagination was his best friend. A graceless warrior of God who’s always been too good for Dean, even when he’s gone out of his way to fuck up as spectacularly as possible. But even then it had always been for Dean. If Cas hadn’t been trying to save Dean’s sorry ass more times than he could count, the angel would have been able to make the smart decisions instead of the heart decisions, so who was actually to blame for Cas’s past transgressions… Well, Dean, obviously. 

And now! Dean would never say that being an angel was so great. Let’s face it – it’s bloody and corrupt, nothing but disappointment and pain at every turn. And while humanity certainly has its perks (perks that Dean couldn’t help but be selfishly excited about showing Cas first-hand), it still didn’t sit well with Dean that the angel didn’t actually choose this for himself. Sure, Cas has always been one to try to make the best out of a bad situation, but it really isn’t fair that he should always _have_ to. 

So yeah, Dean would love nothing more than to Bob Seger this situation and work on his night moves with Cas, but the angel really does deserve better. If Dean was a better person, he’d help Cas find a nice girl to settle down with – show him how to live the apple pie life as far away from the Winchesters as humanly possible. Focus on keeping himself safe and forget about the Hunter who he once called his ‘charge.’ 

But Dean’s well aware that he’s not a better person. He’s the shining embodiment of co-dependency and vice… trust issues, abandonment issues, commitment issues, and daddy issues. Shit – Dean’s got more issues than the waiting room of a crappy doctor’s office! And let us not forget that he’s a selfish son of a bitch to boot. 

Which is probably why he was still lying there with the wriggling angel, and why instead of scampering away to jerk himself off in the relative privacy of the motel bathroom like a real gentleman would do, he instead let his hand trail sensually down Cas’s back to land soundly on his friend’s perfect ass – his firm grip helping to push the angel’s groin even closer than before. 

“ _I’m definitely going back to Hell,_ ” Dean whispered under his breath – Cas’s barely audible moans joining the mental playlist that Dean liked to refer to as ‘Sounds to Masturbate By.’ And Jesus Fucking _Christ_ , that track was earning the number one spot on the list without barely even trying.

Not that he could really blame Cas. The newly-minted human apparently had a lot to learn about bodily urges if last night’s escapades were anything to go by. Imagine not being able to recognize hunger pangs? Or thirst? That ‘baby in a trench coat’ barb from all those years ago didn’t actually seem to be quite that far off. 

Well, at least he’d understood the need to urinate before he got so backed up that he pissed the bed like a toddler. Dean can be a kinky son of a bitch, don’t get him wrong, but water sports have never been something that he had any interest in exploring. Though, the thought causes him to wonder what other urges Cas may not be able to recognize, and he makes a mental note to have Sam go over with Cas the complete wonders of the modern toilet, and everything that that may entail. 

Because Dean would rather focus on other aspects of Cas’s lessens in humanity. Like say, what to do when your dick wakes up before the rest of you, and how sometimes it’s not so bad to let your little head do the thinking for a while. 

_Yep… Straight to Hell. Do not pass ‘GO.’ Do not collect $200._

And any shred of hope for plausible deniability was rapidly slithering away as Dean just lied there and watch as Cas hiked his leg up and over Dean’s thigh. The new position placed the top of Cas’s thigh directly against the large, damp bulge in Dean’s boxer briefs, while at the same time allowing Cas better leverage to more successfully rut his own hard length against Dean’s hip. 

_Fuck,_ Dean thinks. _I really need to stop this._

It really is the only right thing to do. So even though Dean would rather stab himself with a rusty spoon than stop Cas from using Dean to scratch that old proverbial itch, letting it go on any longer would make Dean the kind of dick that he has never been and would never want to be… the kind of dick that takes advantage of someone who’s not able to consent. ‘Consent is sexy,’ Dean’s always thought, and someone who’s asleep can’t consent – especially if there’s been no discussion about it beforehand. 

So with a depressed sigh and a tight squeeze to the angel in his arms, Dean deftly maneuvered himself out from under Cas and off the mattress, surprised to note that instead of waking up, Cas simply reached over and grasped Dean’s pillow tightly – his face buried into its lumpy depths. 

“Adorable goof,” Dean whispers to the snoozing man. Then he shakes his head and wipes the ridiculous smile off his face, and grabs his duffle bag on the way to the bathroom. A quick shower should help to clear the cobwebs away and get Dean thinking clearly again. 

Of course, once in said shower, Dean’s forced to face his still-hard cock head-on, so to speak, and who could really blame him if it’s Cas’s face, and Cas’s body, and Cas’s goddamn filthy moans that overload his fantasy memory banks when he’s wrapping a lubed-up hand around his throbbing erection. 

He tries to imagine a nice, round pair of boobs instead – not too big, just big enough fit in his large hands while he tweaks the nipples and buries his face between them. It’s a nice image to think about, but it doesn’t really work because before he realizes it, those perfectly-squeezable, rounded globes morph into the feel of a nice, firm ass, and the previously imagined motorboat ends with Dean’s tongue laving over a small, pink hole – the owner’s deep voice moaning in pleasure as he licks and sucks on the sensitive rim. 

_Fuck!_ Dean leaned his weight against the shower wall with one hand and let the water run over his head while his other hand stilled on his leaking dick. _Chicks! Ladies! Women!_ Maybe if he thinks it enough he’ll be able to get off without perving on his best friend in the process. 

_Pussy,_ Dean thinks, swiping the water from his face and resuming the measured strokes on his dick. _Just focus on thinking about pussy and you’ll be done in no time!_

 _Settling his bulk between a pair of soft legs… placing lingering kisses to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs… She’s wet, he can see it. God how he loves it when they’re already wet when he goes down on them. Spreading those velvety lips so that he can tongue that hard, little nub – just enough to make her moan a little at first…_

He wonders what Cas would look like in a female vessel. Would he still have dark hair and blue eyes? Would he still look at Dean like he’s staring into his soul and the brightness is mesmerizing? Like he could crawl inside Dean and curl up in the warmth of it, but also kind of like he maybe wants to smite him at the same time. If Cas had been human for all these years, Dean would have thought that that particular look meant that Cas wanted to fuck him. He can get so intense sometimes – an intensity that Dean has only ever known when he was on the receiving end of particularly hard fucking. 

Like, oh! Like that Vanessa chick in that one town – Dean can’t remember the name of it right now. Though, he does remember the way that she pinned him up against a wall before tossing him on his back on the bed. That chick had been _strong_. Of course, she hadn’t been the only one to use him like, but she had been one of the best. 

Pulling her mouth up off his dick with a filthy pop, Vanessa had crawled over him and paused only long enough to roll on a condom before lowering herself down – spearing herself on Dean’s dick right to the hilt. She’d slapped his hands away and then slapped his face when Dean tried to take over the rhythm by placing his hands on her hips. Instead of being affronted, though, Dean had been delighted. He secretly liked a little rough treatment in the sack sometimes, and this chick was the perfect mix of soft and hard.

The memory served as sufficient fuel for Dean’s jerk-off session and he leaned back against the tiles and closed his eyes as he redoubled his efforts on his leaking erection. 

_Tight, wet heat enveloped his aching hardness as the body above him bounced in his lap. Knees tightened around him, squeezing his hips as she leaned forward to change the angle. Dean kept his hands up next to his head on the pillow – the earlier command not to touch was torturous, but Dean didn’t want to spoil the fun. He was allowed to kiss though, when she leaned over far enough to press her torso against Dean’s. He closed his eyes and got lost in the feel of those plush, pink lips – the gentle scrape of stubble sending another jolt of heat to his dick and he moaned around the wet tongue laying claim to his mouth._

_When the tongue retreated and the body rose back up above him, Dean looked up to see dark, blue eyes in a handsome face. Leaning his head back and moaning in pleasure, Cas placed his hands in his own hair and tugged before letting his hands run teasingly down his throat, then onward on a slow path down his chest. The steady undulation of his hips began to pick up its pace when Cas eventually let his hand fall to his lap – his fingers wrapping reverently around that gorgeous cock of his._

“ _Fuck, Cas…_ ” Dean moaned quietly, his eyes closed and muscles tensed. “ _You’re so fucking beautiful…_ ” 

Dean didn’t have a lot of time to chastise himself for the sudden casting swap in his mental porno, for as soon as the thought of Cas making himself come and the spectacularly perfect way in which the angel would tighten around him as a result went through Dean’s mind, he was shoving his fist in his mouth to muffle the loud groan that he couldn’t hold back as he tightened his grip and watched himself come all over his fist and the shower stall. 

His rapid breathing quickly tapered down to a more normal pace – his heartbeat following soon after. And then it was just a matter of pushing down his feelings and emotions like the pro he was while completing the task of getting clean. There was no hope of cleaning the metaphorical taint that perving on his best friend left on Dean’s psyche, but it was an inward stain – one easy enough to cover up with levity and false bravado. 

“ _Hey, man, you gonna be done in there soon?_ ” Sam’s voice followed the gentle knock on the bathroom door and Dean finished getting dressed and running a hand through his freshly-styled hair. 

“It’s all yours, dude.” Sam stepped aside so Dean could exit the small room, and Dean’s eyes darted immediately toward the bed where Cas was still peacefully snoozing away. 

“He’s still out,” Sam assured him. “I thought about waking him but figured we should let him sleep if he’s still tired. Losing his grace probably took a lot out of him.” 

“Yeah, no, you’re probably right. Besides, I’m gonna run out and grab some grub before we go, so he’s got a little bit more time.” 

“I want to take a shower, too,” Sam said, gesturing to the bathroom. “I’m on the mend but I feel gross. I’d like to get cleaned up before we hit the road.” 

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Dean said. “Just don’t take too long conditioning your glorious mane, Rapunzel. We’ve gotta get back to the bunker before the end of the year.” 

“Shut up, Jerk.”

“Make me, Bitch.”

The brothers smiled indulgently at each other and then Sam retreated to the bathroom and Dean walked over to the nightstand to grab his keys. He spent one last moment looking searchingly at his best friend’s sleeping face, wondering if he were dreaming, and if so, what he may be dreaming about. He didn’t fool himself in believing that the angel could be dreaming about him. At least, not dreaming about him in any scenario that didn’t end in death and/or destruction. 

Dean had long since stopped believing that his life would turn out in any way that could be considered ‘ideal’ or even ‘happy,’ so why would he waste hope on something as wonderful as a closer, more intimate relationship with the person he’d loved for as long as he can remember?

No. What he needed to focus on was getting Cas acclimated to life as a human. Cas would need Dean to help him and Dean wouldn’t refuse, but he had to be careful. What he wants needs to take a back burner to what Cas actually needs. 

And on that note… Dean shrugged on his jacket and quietly exited the motel room, his course bent on finding breakfast and coffee, and a new toothbrush for Cas. He should probably pick up a few other toiletry necessities while he was at it, and maybe a bag for him to keep everything. Luckily there was a pharmacy located next to the diner that sat across the street from the motel so it looked like he was in luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers! 
> 
> During Dean's shower scene, he tries to distract himself by thinking of sex with women. It's kind of explicit, though it is brief. But anyway... you've been warned! ;)


	4. The Windows to the Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note about new tags:
> 
> Since, as an angel, Cas is technically genderless, and because he has inhabited both male and female vessels, I've decided to write his human gender identity as sort of non-binary. He'll stick to male pronouns and a mostly-male identity, but there will be what might be considered some slight feminization at times. 
> 
> Along those lines, neither Cas nor Dean will be sticking to any one specific 'role' during their sexual (and even non-sexual) encounters. They will both be switches, with one or the other of them taking the more 'dominant' role depending on the encounter. 
> 
> Believe me, I can get behind fics that stick to one or the other and have written that way before. But I wanted to do something different with this fic. Something that challenges me a bit more. 
> 
> Of course, if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask in the comments section.

Dean’s eyes… oh, Holy father, the green of them… sparkling like spring sunshine on a peaceful meadow when he’s happy. Or dark, like right now – an ancient glittering jade threaded through with gold when the gorgeous man looks at him with such hunger, a hunger fueled by lust and an insistent need to show Castiel _exactly_ how wonderful being human could be. 

“Spread your legs for me, angel… let me make you feel good.”

Castiel obliged the Hunter’s request, pulling his knees up and letting them fall to the sides – opening up for the looming man like a flower, ready and waiting for Dean to pollinate him.

“Such a pretty little thing, sweetheart.” 

Dean’s words dripped like honey from his perfectly full, bow lips, and Castiel felt himself smile as an unaccustomed heat rose warmly to his cheeks. 

“I’ve never done this before, Dean.”

Dean tsked as he lowered himself down to rest in the welcoming space between Castiel’s thighs. “That’s ok, darlin’. I’ll be gentle.”

Gentle… Yes, Castiel thought that gentle sounded nice. The gradual shifting of Dean’s body – low enough now so that he could reach his lips to Cas’s chest – was accompanied by the sound of creaking leather and for the first time Castiel realized that they were in the backseat of Dean’s beloved Impala. 

He wondered when they had left the motel room, and why he couldn’t remember doing it, but the firm, yet tender press of Dean’s fingers to his waiting entrance caused a pleasing warmth to spread throughout his groin and the curious thoughts lost any and all importance.

“ _Dean…_ ” Castiel moaned, rolling his hips down to encourage his lover to keep doing what he was doing. “Please, Dean, I-“

“ _Shhh…_ Hush now, baby. I’ll give you what you need.”

Castiel hadn’t realized that Dean had removed his fingers, but suddenly there was a much larger intrusion filling him up – a glorious hardness who’s length and girth should have been uncomfortable at the very least, if not downright painful. For some reason it wasn’t though… 

It was pleasure and warmth – a tingling sensation that was rapidly building towards something, though Castiel wasn’t completely sure what that might be. 

“Don’t stop, Dean. _Please_ don’t stop…”

“Oh I wouldn’t dream of it, honey,” Dean assured him. He reached down and pulled Castiel’s legs up to wrap around Dean’s hips, and the change in angle increased the pleasurable sensation ten-fold. “Just a little bit more now, Cas. Just like that… You like that, sugar?” 

“Yes, Dean! Yes, I like it _very_ much.”

“Yeah?” Dean inquired, smirking down at Castiel without losing the pace of his forceful thrusts. “How much do you like it, Cas? Come on, angel… tell me how much.” 

“I… I-I…” Castiel tried to think of words that were sufficient to describe the pure ecstasy that he was feeling at that moment. ‘Good’ didn’t seem even nearly good enough, but the sheer amount of sensation and emotion that he was feeling was clouding his mind and making it hard to focus on anything besides the feel of Dean inside him.

“I… I-It’s so… It feels… I _can’t_ , Dean, I just-“

“It’s ok, baby… You’re ok.” Dean pressed his body impossibly closer and Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s strong shoulders, clinging to the large man like a limpet as Dean brought him closer and closer to some sort of precipice that the angel had never encountered before. The only question now was what would happen when that precipice was reached? Would Castiel jump into its unknown depths? What would he find when he reached the bottom? “I’ve got you, Castiel. You can let go now.” 

Dean’s words worked like an incantation on Castiel’s body. The burst of pure joy and ecstasy was blinding, and Castiel slammed his eyes shut while the floodgates opened – a sudden warm wetness covering the throbbing heat of his groin. 

“Dean!” he shouted raggedly, opening his eyes and blinking in surprise at the brightly-lit motel room. “Dean?” he said again, searching frantically around the empty room.

His first thought was that someone must have used an angel-banishing sigil to force him away from Dean and the Impala. But no, that couldn’t be right. That particular sigil worked by banishing an angel’s grace… the vessel merely followed it. So it couldn’t have worked on Castiel because Castiel no longer had any grace. 

Moving to sit up, Castiel was made aware of an uncomfortable wet feeling pooled in his underwear. The sudden realization that maybe none of it had been real caused the unfamiliar feeling of mortification to spread itself eagerly throughout his body. 

_A dream,_ he thinks, lying back down on the lumpy motel mattress. _Of course it was a dream._

“Well, at least it was a good dream.”

The sudden cease of the sound of running water made Castiel realize that one of the Winchesters must be in the bathroom taking a shower. Well, _had_ been taking a shower. 

He panicked anew when he also realized that he’d soiled his garments and had no way to clean them and no other clothing to change into.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam’s voice disrupted Castiel’s attempt at rapid internal problem solving – the younger Winchester exiting the bathroom, fully-clothed and in a cloud of steam. “You’re finally up.”

“Yes, it appears as though I required much rest to recharge my body.” Sam sat on the end of his bed and proceeded to place socks, and then shoes onto his very large feet. “Where is Dean, Sam? Do you know?”

“He’s out grabbing breakfast for us. He should be back soon.” Castiel breathed a sigh of relief at knowing that at least Dean hadn’t been present to bear witness to his shameful foray into the embarrassing world of nocturnal emissions.

“Sam?” The Hunter looked up at Castiel’s questioning tone.

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I find myself in need of a change of clothing, but as you know…” He let his words trail off as he gestured to himself and then over to his suit jacket and trench coat, which were slung over the back of a chair. 

“Oh, yeah, I uh, I see what you mean, man.” He appeared to think about it for a few moments – giving Castiel’s body a quick once over as he did so. “I mean, I’d be more than willing to give you some of my clothes, but they’ll all be really big on you. Dean would probably be a better option.”

The sound of the motel door opening caught both men’s attention and Castiel couldn’t help the smile that rose to his face at the sight of Dean.

“I’d be a better option for what?” he asked. He walked over and deposited his various purchases onto the small, wooden table. 

“Cas needs clothes and I think yours will fit him better until we can buy him some of his own.” 

“What? One day as a human and you’re already itchin’ to trade in the holy tax accountant get-up?” He was busying himself with sorting the breakfast, so he probably didn’t notice Castiel’s suddenly crimson cheeks, or the way in which he pulled the covers up to more effectively conceal his lap.

Sam may have noticed though, because he stood up to walk over to his own duffle bag saying, “It’s fine, Dean. Cas can just borrow some of my things.” 

“What?!” Dean exclaimed, sounding outraged. He snatched Sam’s duffle out of his hands and tossed it over to his empty bed. “Cas doesn’t wear size sasquatch. He can use my stuff.” 

A pile of fabric landed in Castiel’s lap and Dean said, “Here… Go change into that and then come back out and eat before the food gets cold.” It was an awkward thing to maneuver himself out of the bed and into the bathroom without exposing the secret he was trying to keep. The bundle of Dean’s clothing helped a lot though. “We’ll work on the toothbrushing when we’re done eating.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” Dean gave him a wide, answering smile, which faltered somewhat when his eyes took in the way that Castiel was strategically clutching his borrowed clothing over his crotch. 

Not wanting to lie to Dean, and even less wanting to tell him the truth, Castiel closed the bathroom door before Dean had any opportunity to inquire further. 

His first order of business was to remove all of his remaining clothing and do his best to cover up the incriminating evidence from both clothing and skin. His shirt was unscathed, so he quickly undid the buttons and slid the garment from his arms. The action brought with it a slightly strong, unpleasant odor, so he pulled the shirt to his face and began to sniff out its origin. 

When he reached the underarm section of the shirt, he knew he’d reached the correct location. Finding a similar smell on the matching side, Castiel deduced that the cause of the smell may in fact be his own body. 

A brief sniff to his underarm region confirmed that he was smelled quite strong, and Castiel considered attempting a shower instead of the quick wipe-down that he had planned. Dean had told him to hurry though, so he decided to go with his original plan. 

Putting aside the button-down shirt, Castiel continued on down by unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers. They slipped easily down to the floor and he did an awkward sort of hop-step to the side to free himself completely. He reached down and picked them up, then added them to the slowly growing pile of clothing on the counter. Choosing to leave the worst for last, he quickly slipped off his socks and added them to the top of the pile.

Now that the moment had come to face the effects of his dream, Castiel suddenly found himself a bit overwhelmed. Blood and gore… that he could handle. But semen? It was the essence of a man – a life-giving substance gifted to humans by God in his infinite wisdom….

Or perhaps not. Peeling down the white boxer shorts, Castiel cringed at the cool, sticky liquid which was clinging to both the fabric of the shorts and the whole area of his crotch. The musky-smelling fluid was coating not only his softened penis, but also the skin of his abdomen and the thatch of curly, dark pubic hair. 

He proceeded to remove the shorts, careful to not smear more ejaculate over the skin of his legs on the way down. 

“ _You ok in there, man?_ ”

Castiel let out an undignified squawk at the sound of Dean’s voice just outside the door and stumbled out of the soiled shorts, griping the towel rack to try to keep himself from falling. Unfortunately, the combined circumstance of his heavy weight and the substandard craftsmanship of the cheap motel equipment caused the rack to break off the wall and send Castiel sprawling across the bathroom floor. 

Castiel’s additional shout, coupled with the clatter of him falling was worrying enough to Dean for him to come rushing through the door with his gun drawn, though what Dean may have expected to find, Castiel wasn’t sure. 

Using the hand towel which he was still clutching, he whipped it over his naked lap, hoping beyond hope that Dean was too busy searching for possible threats to have noticed the state of Castiel’s crotch. “Dean!” he shouted, awkwardly holding his hands over his lap. “What are you doing?”

Dean pulled his head out from behind the closed shower curtain and looked down at Castiel with a slight blush tinging his cheeks. “You shouted and then I heard a loud crash. I never knew that changing clothes was such a dangerous sport. What the hell happened, Cas?”

He stowed his gun and then reached down a hand to help Castiel stand up. The angel considered not taking it, but he couldn’t sit there on the floor forever, so with one hand clutching at the small towel to keep himself covered, he took Dean’s in the other and the two of them pulled Castiel up to a standing position. 

The forceful way in which Dean yanked on his arm caused Castiel to stumble a bit when he regained his footing, and instead of landing with a respectable distance between them, Castiel found himself practically nose-to-nose (or rather nose-to-lips) with the slightly taller man. 

The close proximity also caused the back of his lower hand to graze over the front of Dean’s jeans and he was surprised to feel an answering twitch from the Hunter’s clothed member, which made Castiel uncomfortably aware that he was basically naked in the presence of a man that he knew he was sexually attracted to. 

If Dean didn’t leave the bathroom soon, the small hand towel would not be enough to hide his body’s traitorous reaction from the beautiful human. 

“Oh, well I tripped,” he began, taking a step back to give himself some breathing room. “And then I attempted to catch myself, but the…” He looked around on the floor and then bent over to pick up the broken hardware. “… the towel rack was not up to the task of holding my weight, I guess.” 

When he straightened and looked back up to Dean’s face, he was surprised to see a slightly dazed look in his eyes while he licked his lips and loosely curled his fists at his sides. The sight of Dean’s tongue sliding out to wet his lips was mesmerizing to Castiel, and all of a sudden he couldn’t remember what it was they were talking about. He swallowed thickly and found himself talking a step closer to Dean and those sparkling green eyes, fascinated by the way in which his pupils were growing larger and larger by the second. 

“Dean?” Castiel began, not able to take his eyes off of Dean’s. 

Their impromptu staring contest was broken when Sam appeared in the doorway and said, “Everything ok in here, guys?” Dean quickly grabbed a larger bath towel and handed it to Cas to wrap around his waist before turning to his brother.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, Sam. Cas just had a little row with the shitty motel shower rack. Don’t worry though,” he turned back around to Castiel and gave him a quick wink. “… Cas took that son of a bitch down, didn’t you, buddy?” 

“I did, yes.” 

He held up the aforementioned rack and Sam just squinted his eyes and looked suspiciously between Castiel and Dean, then said, “Oh. Ok,” before walking away again. 

When Dean looked back at him again, his eyes had lost their glazed look and he had a bright smile plastered to his face. “Alright Sugar Ray, give me that.” He reached out and took the shower rack from Castiel’s hand and stuck it back into the wall. It would need to be reinstalled properly, but Castiel figured it would do for now. “Now, hurry up and get dressed. Your food is getting cold.” 

For a fleeting moment, Castiel thought that Dean would stay in the bathroom with him while he changed his clothes, but after one last quick once-over, Dean nodded to himself and left, shutting the door closed behind him. 

Dropping the larger of the two towels to the floor, Castiel started the water in the sink and then proceeded to use soap and water to clean his armpits and nether regions. He didn’t linger on any spots, not wanting to make Dean wait any longer than necessary. And when he was finished, he pulled on his borrowed clothes, piece by piece. 

The whole ordeal was methodical and perfunctory, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the image of Dean’s eyes out of his head. The way in which the green of them changed with his emotions… surely that wasn’t a usual human trait? 

He thought that it probably wouldn’t hurt to make a study of it though. After all, there were much less pleasant things to spend his time looking at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, also, this work is shaping up to be longer than I had originally intended so I've decided to start naming the chapters. Just an fyi. I find it easier to go back and find things that way.


	5. More Motel Bathroom Misadventures

“Really, Dean?” Sam’s accompanying bitch face was in rare form.

“What?” 

“You know ‘what’.” 

Ok, _maybe_ busting in on Cas like that had been a _slight_ overreaction. And yes, _perhaps_ he could have like, knocked and inquired if Cas needed his help first. 

But what if there had been a vengeful spirit or something in there with him? Every second counts when it’s a matter of life and death. And it’s not like Cas was in any position to defend himself – butt naked without any grace or any weapons to fight back!

And speaking of naked butts… _Damn!_ The eyeful that Dean got when Cas bent over to pick up that towel rack will be seared into his memory for the rest of his life. The man sure was making it hard for Dean to keep his hands to himself.

“Well?” 

Oh right, Sam actually wanted a response as to why Dean had done what he’d done. Though why Sam even bothered questioning all the crap that Dean did was a mystery to him.

“You heard the same thing I did, Sam. He could have been in trouble!”

Sam appeared to know when to pick his battles, because instead of a response, he simply shook his head and began to dig into his egg-white omelet (fruit on the side). Yeah, Dean could be a dick, but he knew how to take care of Sammy when he wasn’t feeling well.

He stood back up from the other chair when the bathroom door opened again and Cas came walking out – fully clothed and carrying his dirty clothes – looking, incidentally, like he’d just walked out of one of Dean’s top-ten wet dreams. 

“ _Holy shit…_ ” he breathed, looking the man up and down, and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. 

Sam loudly cleared his throat behind them while Cas looked down at himself and asked, “What? Is there something wrong?”

The black Henley that he was wearing was a tad too loose, the neckline hanging low enough to showcase his delicious collarbones. The dark jeans, on the other hand, were just this side of too tight – the angel’s thick, muscular thighs causing them to hang on for dear life. And the crotch… sweet baby Jesus! Cas was packin’! What Dean wouldn’t give to-

“Dean?” Cas asked, tilting his head in that fucking adorable way he did. Wait… no, not adorable. _Get it together, Dean!_ “Is there something wrong with the way I look?”

“What? No.” Dean tried to brush off his awkward reaction to Cas’s appearance with a swipe of his hand and a muttered, “Put that stuff down and eat. I got us breakfast burritos.” 

When he walked back over to the table, Sam was studiously not looking at either of them, but Dean couldn’t miss the smirk that he was trying to hide behind his white, thermal, coffee cup. 

“Shut up,” Dean warned him, accompanying his words with a stern look and a pointed finger.

“I didn’t say a word,” he responded, looking way too goddamn smug.

Dean chose to let the subject of what Sam may or may not have wanted to say drop and instead told Cas with hand gestures to take the other seat. He opened up Cas’s food container for him and pushed it closer, following it up with the cup of coffee he had gotten for him as well. 

“I got it black, but there’s cream and sugar in the bag if you want it.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas took a tentative sip of the steaming brew and made a cute little face at the bitter taste – his nose wrinkling up and his lips pursed. _No, not cute, damn it!_

Cas opted to pull a few sugar packets out, and then hesitated before removing the cream as well. After adding it all and stirring it up with a plastic knife, he took another sip and appeared much happier with the result.

Next, he picked up the tin-foil-wrapped breakfast burrito and pealed back the wrapping before taking a big bite. The angel closed his blue eyes in bliss and Dean found himself unable to look away. The mesmerizing way in which Cas’s throat bobbed as he swallowed caused an answering, audible gulp in Dean. 

“Not hungry, Dean?” Cas’s eyes opened again when Sam spoke, a look of concern marring his handsome features. Dean wasn’t fooled though, he knew that Sam wasn’t really concerned. He was simply being a pain in the ass. So instead of deigning to respond, he grabbed up his own burrito and sat on the nearby bed to eat it – taking a huge bite while glaring at his extremely annoying brother. 

“So, Cas,” Sam began. “How are you feeling? This must all be quite a shock.”

Cas set his burrito down and wiped his mouth with a napkin, then took a sip of his coffee before speaking. “It’s… different. That’s for sure.” Sam nodded in understanding and Cas continued. “As you may know, being on Earth as long as I have, and spending so much time among humans… especially the two of you…” He paused to look at both Sam and Dean in turn – perhaps lingering on Dean a little longer, he thought. “I’m no stranger to human emotions, but without my grace, the feelings… I’ve already found it to be somewhat overwhelming.”

A slight blush rose to his cheeks, and he averted his gaze down to where he was rubbing his thumb meditatively up and down the side of his coffee cup. 

“And then of course there’s the physical challenges…” He shifted in his seat, glancing up to meet Dean’s eyes before averting them once again. “This body seems to require a lot of maintenance and attention. I really don’t know how you do it, day in and day out.” 

“Years of practice,” Dean said, flippantly. Though Cas seemed to take this answer to heart, for his nodded solemnly before taking another bite of his breakfast, chewing slowly as he thought over Dean’s answer. 

“Yes, well I suppose I will just have to learn to live as a human does. It seems a fitting punishment for the part I played in Metatron’s treachery.” He placed the remaining third of his burrito back into the container and closed the lid, guilt and shame seeming to have caused him to lose his appetite. 

Dean placed his food aside and stood, approaching his friend and laying a gentle hand on the angel’s shoulder. “First off, it isn’t your fault what that lying dick did, Cas. That’s not on you, you hear?” Cas nodded meekly and Dean tightened his grip in a reassuring squeeze. “And second, being human’s not all bad, alright? Give it a little bit of time before you write off the experience completely. I mean, who knows… you might end up even enjoying some aspects of it.”

Cas’s small answering smile was enough to prompt a much larger grin in return from Dean. The magic of the moment passed through, when Sam chimed in with, “Yeah Cas, I bet Dean will be more than willing to introduce you to some of the more pleasant aspects of the human experience… won’t you, Dean?”

Dropping his hand back to his side, Dean returned to the bed to finish his breakfast. Sam wasn’t wrong – Dean would be more than willing to teach Cas first-hand all the best things about being human, but it wouldn’t do to admit that to anyone. Even if Cas could possibly want Dean in that way, his friend deserved better. 

So he deflected, saying, “Yeah, absolutely, man! Maybe I’ll take you back to that cat-house we went to before… I promise you’ll enjoy the iniquity much more this time around.”

The hopeful look on Cas’s face fell at Dean’s words, morphing into one of guilty disappointment. Dean wondered why what he said seemed to upset the angel, but he wasn’t about to ask. Instead he finished the last of his coffee and got up to throw away his trash, stopping to grab his toiletry bag, as well as the new supplies that he’d picked up for Cas.

“Come on, mopey, time for tooth-brushing 101.”

Cas began to collect the detritus from his own meal, but Sam stopped him, saying that he would do it. The angel nodded his thanks and followed Dean into the bathroom, then stepped up to the sink and began picking out each item from the pharmacy bag and placing them down on the counter while Dean was rummaging through his own bag.

“I understand the use of most of these items, Dean, but what is this for?”

“Hmm?” Dean pulled his own toothbrush and toothpaste out of his bag and turned to see what Cas was asking about. What he didn’t expect to see was Cas holding a bottle of Astroglide – a quizzical furrow to his brow as he squinted down at the writing on the back. “Oh! Uh… that’s uh… that’s mine.” He quickly snatched to bottle out of Cas’s hand and stuffed it into his brown, leather pouch, then ripped open Cas’s new, blue toothbrush and shoved it into Cas’s hand. “Here,” he said. “ _That’s_ for you.” 

Cas turned the brush over in his hand, inspecting it meticulously. “Do they come in different colors,” he asked. “I think I would have preferred a green one instead.” 

Dean busied himself with opening the cardboard packaging to Cas’s toothpaste but couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he answered, “Next time you can pick out your own toothbrush, ok?”

The only response to that from Cas was the sound of brushing, and Dean looked over to see him pushing the brush back and forth over his teeth – no toothpaste, no water – looking as perplexed as he ever had before.

Dean couldn’t help the huff of laughter he let out at the sight, but he attempted to keep it to a minimum, really trying hard to remind himself that Cas was new to all this and that it’s not very nice to laugh at people when they’re trying new things.

“Try this,” he said instead, handing Cas the newly opened tube of toothpaste.

He watched as Cas opened the toothpaste and took a sniff, then instead of adding a dollop to his brush, he squeezed out a little and removed it from the tube with his tongue, making a weird face at the strong, mint flavor. 

“No!” Dean said, laughing again. Cas froze, looking startled, and Dean continued in a more gentle tone, “You put the toothpaste on the toothbrush, then brush your teeth with it. Like this… Squeezing out a small amount onto his own brush, Dean then turned on the faucet momentarily to wet it before bringing it up to his own mouth to begin brushing. 

After watching Dean for a few moments, Cas spit the glob of toothpaste out into the sink, then proceeded to copy Dean’s actions, right down to the dazzling, toothy smile when they were done. 

Then, before he could really think about what he was about to do, Dean leaned in close to Cas’s face, intent on blowing his minty breath up Cas’s nose. He faltered though, when Cas’s blue eyes slipped suddenly closed, and the angel leaned forward as well, bringing his lips within several inches of Dean’s own. 

Was he… was he expecting Dean to kiss him? No, he couldn’t possibly. 

“So,” Dean said gruffly, pulling back and turning to face the mirror once again. “That’s how uh… toothbrushing… so, yeah…” He was looking down then, so Dean didn’t see what Cas did next. Instead, he pulled the new toiletry bag that he had bought for Cas out of the plastic one and began filling it with his other new purchases.

In went the tube of toothpaste and the brush (in its new carrying case), a packet of floss, and a comb. “Shaving can wait another day or so.” Razor and shaving gel followed the dental hygiene supplies. “But this is an everyday must…” He held up a new stick of deodorant, took off the cap, and handed it over. “Just twist the bottom up a little and rub it over your armpits. The ladies don’t like a dude who stinks.”

Taking the stick from Dean with a slight reddish tint to his cheeks, Dean was once again treated to the sight of Cas’s perfectly cut hip bones when he lifted his shirt to apply the deodorant. He didn’t let his eyes linger too long though, because there was obviously something wrong with Dean’s mind. Either that, or his notoriously low impulse control had suddenly become non-existent. He was sure that if he didn’t get out of that bathroom soon, that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from pushing Cas up against the counter and shoving his tongue down the angel’s throat. 

Giving Cas the cap to the deodorant, Dean quickly snatched up his own bag and quickly shoved his brush and paste back inside, then darted around Cas and exited the room. Cas followed a few moments later and just sort of stood in the doorway looking like a lost puppy.

“Ready to hit the road, Sammy?” _Don’t think about Cas’s lips… Don’t think about Cas’s lips…_ “I tried calling Kevin earlier but he didn’t answer. I want to get back to the bunker and make sure he’s ok.” _Don’t think about Cas’s hips… Don’t think about Cas’s hips…_ “Sorry, Cas, you’re going to have to wear the same shoes until we can get you your own pair of boots.” _Especially don’t think about grabbing Cas by his perfect hips and using your tongue to coax open his perfect lips…_

Dean was rushing around the room and frantically collecting all of his belongings, pausing long enough to consolidate two duffle bags’ worth of stuff into one so that Cas could use the empty one. 

“Suuure…” Sam said, collecting his things as well, though at a much more sedate pace. Dean didn’t wait around for the other two. He grabbed his keys off the table and walked out the door, then threw open Baby’s driver-side door and slipped in behind the wheel, tossing his duffle over the seat and into the back.

She started up with her comforting rumble and Dean didn’t have long to wait before Sam and Cas were exiting the room and walking up to the car. 

“Dean, I need the keys so we can put our bags in the trunk.” Sam sounded annoyed but Dean didn’t care.

“Just put them in the backseat!” he shouted, tapping his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel.

Sam huffed loudly, but did as Dean said, and Cas got into the back seat with the bags while Sam took his customary spot up front. Then without further ado, Dean backed out of the parking spot and hit the road, only glancing into the rearview mirror once to look at Cas. 

He was looking right back at Dean though, and the Hunter found it difficult to tear his eyes away. But he did – trying to focus on the road ahead of him and nothing else. 

***

The first three hours of the drive passed in relative quiet – the music of Dean’s cassette tapes a backdrop for the internal contemplations of all three men. Without his grace, Castiel couldn’t really get a read on Sam or Dean’s state of mind. But Castiel himself was stuck vacillating between fond remembrances of his dream that morning and conflicting thoughts about the two instances of Dean’s presence with him in the bathroom. 

It was awkward enough to have had Dean rush into the bathroom the first time – gun drawn and statuesquely heroic while Castiel was completely naked and all but cowering on the cold, hard floor. But even that wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as when Castiel had misunderstood Dean’s intentions and foolishly leaned in for a kiss that the Hunter had never intended on initiating. 

In retrospect, it was such a ridiculously unreasonable thing for Castiel to have expected, and for the first time he seriously wondered if one could actually die from embarrassment. Because it had certainly felt like it at the time. 

“Does anyone hear that?”

Sam’s words snapped Castiel out of his silent musings – the younger Winchester leaning forward to turn off the current rock song playing through the Impala’s speakers. 

“Hear what?” Dean asked, sounding distracted. 

“I hear banging.” Castiel quirked his head, trying to listen for anything unusual, and after a few moments he did think that he could detect a faint pounding noise coming from behind his seat. 

“I hear it too… I think it’s coming from the trunk.” Castiel looked to Dean with trepidation, and while Sam also looked concerned, there was a noticeable amount of annoyance in the look that he sent Dean’s way. 

Castiel expected Dean to pull over immediately, but instead he drove a few more miles until the exit ramp for a rest stop came into view. And when they did finally pull into a parking spot at the very end of the lot, half-hidden from any other potential visitors, instead of worry, Dean just sighed in defeat.

“I guess there’s something that I may have forgotten to mention before.” He said, killing the ignition and swinging open the door to exit the vehicle. Castiel and Sam shared a worried look, but followed him out nonetheless.

The banging noise got louder as the trio approached the trunk, and Sam drew his gun, much more prepared than Castiel. He realized suddenly that he was completely unarmed – even his angel blade was wrapped up in his trench coat in the back seat. 

Knowing he would be of no help were they to be attacked, Castiel opted to stand back a ways when Dean stepped up and inserted his key, popping the latch and letting the trunk crack wide open. 

“What the hell?!” Sam’s exclamation matched Castiel’s thoughts as he took in the sight of Crowley bound and gagged and looking fit to murder. Castiel was sure that if he hadn’t had dampening sigils binding his powers, the brothers and himself would be ashes on the ground. “Why is Crowley tied up in our trunk, Dean?!”

“Well, after our aborted attempt to close the gates of Hell,” he began, turning to face his brother. “You were out for the count so I had to decide what to do with Captain Dickhead here.” Crowley let out an indignant squawk, obvious even though he couldn’t open his mouth. “So I thought to myself, ‘what would Sam Winchester do?’”

“I’d have… stabbed him in the brain.” Sam answered, surprising both Dean and Castiel, and apparently Crowley as well, for the beat up demon made another audible, though muffled shout, continuing his indistinguishable tirade though the Winchesters didn’t appear to be paying him much attention. 

“Oh,” Dean said. “Well I figured the King of Hell might know a few things, so why not ‘Zero Dark Thirty’ his ass.”

Sam contemplated Dean’s words for a moment, then said, “Ok, but where are we going to take him? We can’t keep him in the Impala’s trunk indefinitely.”

“What? Of course not, Sam. We’ll take him back to the Bunker. Put that dungeon to good use.”

“Dean,” Sam began, speaking incredulously. “Kevin lives in the Bunker. You can’t expect him to reside in the same place as the evil douchebag who killed his mother. It’s too much to ask of him.”

Crowley had fallen quiet as Dean and Sam continued speaking, but when Dean then said, “Yeah, maybe you’re right, Sam. I guess we can just kill him now. Or we could bring him back to the bunker and let Kevin do the honors?” the muted man resumed his garbled shouting, sounding more desperate as the seconds ticked by. 

He seemed to be trying in vain to get the brothers’ attention, but they weren’t having it, so instead, Castiel walked up to the trunk and ripped off the duct tape, curious as to what the abomination had to say for himself.

“ _Thank_ you,” Crowley said, at the same time Dean and Sam both shouted, “What the Hell, Cas?!”

“I wanted to hear what he has to say,” he answered the boys, then turning to Crowley he continued with, “Speak, demon. But choose wisely, for these words may very well be your last.”

“I’ve got to say, Cas, I’m liking the new look. Finally decided to ditch the layers and show off what you’ve been hiding under that wretched overcoat?” He smirked at Castiel, and then gave him a slow once-over, seeming to linger on the angel’s denim-clad crotch. Though, the leering came to an abrupt end when Dean stepped up and punched Crowley right in his smirking face – the loud crunch of a broken nose making Castiel cringe for some reason. 

“Ow!” Crowley shouted, staring menacingly up at the fuming Winchester. “What? The choir boy can’t fight his own battles anymore? He has to have his _boyfriend_ defend his honor?”

“Dean is not my boyfriend,” Castiel said, not wanting anyone to think that he was under any delusions about that fact. “But if that’s all that you have to say for yourself, I’m sorry that I removed the tape to allow you to speak at all.” 

Dean was rapidly approaching him again, this time with Ruby’s knife held in his outstretched hand.

“Ok, ok! Wait!” Dean ceased his advance, but didn’t lower the knife. This time Crowley didn’t waste any words. “Kevin’s mother isn’t dead.” 

The revelation came as somewhat of a shock to all three of them, but Castiel wondered how they could possibly believe him. The demon would say anything to save his own life.

“Where is she?” Sam asked, his voice cold and hard. 

“I’ll tell you,” Crowley answered. “But if I do, you have to promise not to kill me.”

“We’ll promise to consider it,” Dean told him. “Best I can do.” 

Crowley seemed to think that over, looking to each of them in turn. “Fine,” he finally answered. Castiel wasn’t really surprised that he had caved. The demon really wasn’t in any position to bargain. “She’s in a storage facility in Wichita. There’s only two low-level demons manning the place. It should be a piece of cake for your wingman here to zap in and get her.”

Ignoring the spark of pain that the reminder of his lost grace and burnt wings brings, Castiel instead inquired, “What’s the address?” As soon as Crowley gave the information, Castiel slapped the tape back over his mouth and Dean slammed the trunk shut, cutting off any further attempts at snark from the bound man.

“Can we trust him?” Castiel asked what they were probably all thinking.

“Hell no,” Dean said. “But we have to check it out. If there’s any chance that Mrs. Tran is still alive, we have to find out.” Sam checked to make sure that his magazine was full and Castiel wondered if Dean would give him a gun of his own, but they were both surprised when Dean spoke again. “Strike that. _I_ have to find out. You two are benched.” 

“What?” Sam began to argue with his brother, but Dean was having none of it.

“You’re sitting this one out, Sammy. You’re not fully healed. You’re in no shape for taking on a couple of demons.” Then turning to Castiel before the angel could even get a word in edgewise. “And you’re out too, Cas. You’ve been human for one day. I won’t risk your safety when we don’t even know what we’re walking into.” 

Sam just nodded his head, willing to admit that it was probably best for everyone is he sat this one out. Castiel didn’t agree though. “As much as I appreciate your concern, Dean… it isn’t necessary. I may be human now, but I’ve been a warrior for longer than your species has existed. I can take care of myself and I will not sit idly by while the prophet’s mother is being held prisoner by demons.” He was adamant, and glad to see that Dean could tell.

“Fine,” Dean said, taking out his phone from his jacket pocket. “But we’re taking back-up.” He scrolled through his contacts before tapping on the screen and bringing the phone up to his ear, and after a few more moments a huge smile came to his face as he said, “Amy! You sexy thing, you… I’m going on a rescue mission in Wichita. What do you say, sweetheart? You up for some action?”

Castiel felt a sharp, poking sensation in the palms of his hands, and he suddenly realized that he was clenching his fists so tightly that his fingernails were biting into his flesh. He didn’t know who this ‘Amy’ person was, but Castiel already knew that he wasn’t going to like her. He didn’t fully understand what he was feeling at that moment, but he knew that it was a bad feeling. A very bad feeling. He could only hope that the feeling wouldn’t stick around for long.


	6. Dr. Sexy and WD-40

Overall, the brief stop at the Bunker had gone pretty well. Castiel thought that Kevin probably regretted not actually hitting Dean with the arrow when he found out that he had let Crowley live, but he calmed down somewhat when the brothers had informed him that his mother may still be alive. That, coupled with the promise that if Crowley was lying, then Kevin could do the honors of finishing the demon off himself, had the prophet completely on-board with their plan.

He hadn’t been best pleased to be staying ‘on the bench,’ as Dean had called it, but he didn’t put up too much of a fight, and now Dean and Castiel were back in the Impala and on the road to Wichita to meet up with the mysterious Amy up the road from the storage facility. Though why they needed her help, Castiel still wasn’t sure. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” The sound of Dean’s voice pulled Castiel out of his own head, and caused him to realize that he was silently glowering at his own reflection in the passenger-side window, and probably had been for quite some time.

“You do not have to pay me to talk to you, Dean. You need only ask.” Castiel turned to look at Dean in time to see the Hunter roll his eyes. 

“That was me asking, Cas,” he said, glancing to Castiel before returning his eyes to the road. “You’ve been staring out the window with your smite-face on for the last forty minutes. I’m kinda curious what’s going on in that pret- uh… that head of yours.” 

Castiel didn’t miss the slight blush that darkened Dean’s cheek, or the distracting way in which it caused the light smattering of freckles to stand out that much more. He wasn’t sure what caused the blush… but it certainly didn’t pass his notice. 

“Oh, well, I was just wondering about the woman you spoke with earlier… Amy?” 

Dean shifted in his seat and switched from steering with his left hand to steering with his right before answering. “What about her?”

“Well, for starters… who is she?” Castiel shifted in his seat as well, turning so that he was fully facing Dean. “And why do we need her help? I believe that the two of us are more than capable of taking out two low-level demons.” 

Dean sighed and took a few moments before answering. “She’s a hunter that I met a while back. She’s a Kansas local so I figured she might be nearby and available to help.” Castiel nodded, still waiting to hear _why_ Dean thought they needed help in the first place. “And you’re most likely right… The two of us probably can get this done, no problem.” Again, Castiel nodded, pleased that Dean still had faith in him, missing grace notwithstanding. “But why risk it? I mean, ideally we’d have Sam with us. But since he can’t be here, next best thing… right?”

Castiel thought that was debatable, but he didn’t really want to fight. And anyway, he had a feeling that this would be a fight that he had little to no chance of winning, so he dropped it – turning back to the window to resume scowling at the passing scenery. 

***

It wasn’t long before they were pulling into the darkened lot of the Western Holiday Motel and parking alongside an early model, light-blue convertible with a black top. Its owner was leaning up against the trunk – arms crossed over her chest and one booted heel propped beneath her on the shiny chrome bumper.

She smirked when the Impala got close and the hollow feeling in Castiel’s chest felt even more pronounced when he got a closer look at her. She was stunning – no other word would do to describe her. 

On the tall side for a woman – Amy had wavy, medium-length hair, so dark it was almost black, piercing blue eyes, and pale skin. She wasn’t frail, by any means, but her body was lithe and well-muscled without being bulky. 

She wore well-fitted dark blue-jeans and black ankle boots, the unmistakable gleam of a silver dagger shining from the left one. On the top she and Dean were similarly attired – a canvas jacket covering a soft-looking flannel and dark-colored t-shirt. Though hers was cut in a v-shaped neckline – the better to showcase her impressive cleavage, Castiel realized. 

She was definitely attractive, he would give her that. But he felt much less willing to be complementary when, by way of greeting, Amy shoved off from her car, pulled Dean in by the lapels of his jacket, and planted a forceful kiss on his unresisting mouth. 

Castiel was hit suddenly with the overwhelming urge to grab the woman by her hair and forcefully yank her off of Dean. Logically, he knew that Amy wasn’t harming Dean. But he was quickly learning that these human emotions were not only intense, but also somewhat irrational at times. 

“Oh… hey, there,” Amy said when she finally came up for air – looking at Castiel as if she’d only just realized that she and Dean weren’t alone. 

Unclenching his jaw, Castiel tipped his head down in a terse nod and ground out a brief, “Hello.” It really was the best he could do under the circumstances. 

Amy took a step back – placing a respectable distance between herself and Dean, Castiel was happy to note – and pinned Castiel with a much more assessing gaze. “Sorry about that, cutie,” she said to the angel, gesturing between herself and Dean. “I hadn’t heard that he was spoken for.” 

“What?” Castiel squeaked. He looked to Dean with wide eyes, feeling guilty that his cold behavior had possibly jeopardized Dean’s relationship with this woman. Because no matter how much Castiel may want it to be otherwise, he had no claim on Dean – the man was free to kiss whoever he wanted. “No, no… you’re quite mistaken. Dean and I aren’t… We don’t…”

“Amy,” Dean interrupted, drawing the woman’s attention away from Castiel’s awkward attempt at an explanation momentarily. “This is Castiel. Cas, Amy.” 

A look of recognition lit up Amy’s pretty face and she turned to Dean saying, “Castiel? As in, the _angel_ you were telling me _all_ about last time we got together, Dean?” She responded to Dean’s answering blush with a knowing smirk, to which Castiel squinted his eyes and tilted his head, trying without success to understand the subtext of her words. 

“Uh… yep! This is Cas… the one I was telling you about…” Once again, Castiel felt as though he was missing something – an important part of the conversation being spoken of without actually being spoken. 

“Well then why do you need me here?” she asked, looking confused. “I mean, don’t get me wrong… I’m always down for some good old fashioned demon-killing. But he’s an _angel_ , Dean. He could get this done with his eyes closed – in fact, I’m surprised he hasn’t done it already. Wait… is this some sort of exhibitionism thing? Do you guys need someone to watch or something? Because you know me, Dean… all you had to do was ask.”

She turned and winked at Castiel, but luckily Dean took it upon himself to set her straight so that Castiel didn’t have to. “Yeah… see, the thing about that… Hey, you didn’t happen to notice the so-called ‘meteor shower,’ did you?”

“How could I possibly miss it?” She responded, leaning back against her car’s bumper again, arms crossed over her chest. “You going to tell me what really happened?”

“It was the angels,” Castiel interjected.

“Oh?”

“… falling from Heaven, that is,” he clarified. 

“ _Oh…_ So what, are you like, human now?” she asked. 

“More or less…” 

“Are all the angels…?” 

“No.”

“So…?”

Dean finally spoke, his ‘take charge’ attitude effectively putting an end to the current conversation so that they could focus on the task at hand. “Long story short: Most of the angels still have their powers, but have lost the use of their wings. They’re all stuck here on Earth because this super dick angel named Metatron stole Cas’s grace and used it for a spell to close up Heaven.” He had opened the trunk and began arming himself and then Castiel while he spoke. “So, now that we’ve got that cleared up… you down with helping us find our friend?”

“Absolutely. Just point me in the right direction.” Castiel was surprised to see her pull an angel blade out from behind her back, and for a moment he was afraid. But Dean merely glanced at her before turning back to Castiel with a somewhat guilty expression. Ah, so Dean had given her the blade. And honestly he wasn’t sure if that bothered him more or less than the idea of her killing one of his brothers or sisters and stealing the blade from their fresh corpse. 

“Where’s your blade, Cas?” He was brought out of his internal musings by the feeling of Dean’s hands brushing over his body. He was patting Castiel down, looking for the blade which he wouldn’t find, because Castiel had left it in the back seat of the Impala, concealed in the duffle bag that Dean had given him. And Castiel needed to say something, he knew that… but any and all words seemed to dry up on his tongue when Dean stepped in close and snaked his hand underneath Castiel’s jacket and around his waist – bringing them chest to chest as he searched in vain for the weapon. 

“ _Green…_ ” Dean was so close. Castiel could smell his deodorant, and whatever it was that he used in his hair, and some indefinable scent that when Castiel closed his eyes and inhaled it reminded him of excitement, and comfort, and fear… memories of his most ecstatic joy and his most shameful regrets all rolled into one. What _was_ that? 

“What was that, Cas?” Castiel flinched, wondering if Dean had somehow developed the ability to read minds. Then he realized that he was less than focused and that he had probably just spoken, but he had no idea what it was that he had said. 

“Umm…” Words. Words would be helpful here. But again, Dean was just _so_ close. 

“Cas?” Dean’s mouth sure was mesmerizing when Castiel’s name was spilling out of it. 

“Yes, Dean?” He wondered what it would look like if that mouth was kiss-swollen and spit-slick and moaning out-

“The blade?” Oh. Right. Dean was looking for his angel blade. 

“It’s in the duffle bag in the backseat.” Castiel instantly regretted the loss of Dean’s warmth when the Hunter moved to retrieve the blade from the back of his car. 

“Wow, have you got it bad.” Castiel blushed and started when he realized that he had been caught staring at Dean’s ass while he bent over to rummage through the bags on the floor of the backseat. When he looked up, Amy was smiling at him – an amused twinkle dancing in her sparkling blue eyes. 

“Excuse me; I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.” She scoffed at him and rolled her eyes, then stepped in close and spoke in an undertone. 

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, angel boy. I’m not blind. I see the way you look at him.” He wondered what was taking Dean so long. There were only two bags back there. Maybe Castiel should help him look for it? “He looks at you the same way.”

“What?!” Well _that_ got his attention. She couldn’t be serious. She had to be teasing him. Dean liked to do that too. Maybe it was a Hunter thing? 

“He wants you. I can tell.” 

“I’m sure you must be mistaken.” He wished she were correct, but Castiel couldn’t let himself think like that. 

“Wanna bet on it?” He’d never wanted to be proven wrong before. Perhaps there was indeed a first time for everything. Glancing once more at Dean’s perfect rear end, Castiel then turned back and rose one brow in a silent entreaty for her to elaborate. “I rented two rooms here for tonight. One room has two beds, the other has just the one – king-sized, very nice.” Castiel nodded, following along so far. “Now, I had planned on using that very nice, king-sized bed with Dean myself, but after seeing the two of you just now? I’m willing to bet that you’ll be the one enjoying the royal treatment.” 

“The royal treatment?” Dean asked, walking to stand between the two of them. “Here you go, Cas.” He handed Castiel his angel blade, then turned back to Amy. 

“It’s nothing,” she said, brushing off his inquiry. “You ready to go?” 

“Let’s do it,” he said, nodding his head with a smile and clasping her warmly on the shoulder. The gesture quickly and effectively doused the small, bright flame of hope that Castiel hadn’t realized he’d been harboring in his chest, and he wondered once again if Amy had just been teasing him. He thought that it was a pretty cruel thing to do to someone. “Oh, hey, why don’t you sit in the back, Amy? That way you can look over the seat at the diagram while Cas explains the layout of the place.”

She agreed with a quick, “Sure thing,” but Castiel didn’t miss the surreptitious wink that she threw the angel’s way when Dean turned to get into the car, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit of a spark trying to reassert itself in the vicinity of his heart. 

***

“Tell Crowley that he gets to live to be a douchebag another day,” Dean said into the phone, speaking to Sam on the other end of the line. “Yeah, we got her. She’s safe – a little worse for wear, but she’s got all her parts-“

“Let me speak to my son,” Mrs. Tran interjected from the backseat.

“Sam, put Kevin on the phone. His mom wants to talk to him.” He handed the phone off to Castiel, who in-turn handed it back to Mrs. Tran. 

“Kevin!” Castiel tried not to listen to the Trans’ conversation. He was very happy that the mission had been successful, and that they had been able to retrieve Mrs. Tran and kill the demons without much trouble at all. And as an added bonus, they had found another prisoner as well – a woman, Candy was her name – and they were going to help her to return to her family as well.

His first experience with fighting as a human had also gone pretty well. He had been able to hold his own and not embarrass himself – though he could already feel the strain of sore muscles, and he definitely wasn’t looking forward to having to try to get the bloodstains out of his borrowed clothing without the use of his grace. 

They pulled into the parking lot of the motel and Dean turned in his seat to address the women. “We’ve got rooms here for the night, but if you’d rather go straight back to the Bunker right now, I’m happy to keep driving. Just tell me what you want.” 

“Kevin, I’ll see you in the morning… Yes… That’s right… I love you too… Goodnight.” She ended the call and handed Dean back the phone. “We’ll go back in the morning.” 

Mrs. Tran’s word was law, so they all exited the Impala and followed Amy and Dean to two rooms, right next to each other. Amy unlocked one and ushered Mrs. Tran and Candy inside, and Dean unlocked the other, going in alone. Castiel hesitated, not sure where to go. 

Until, that is, Dean stuck his head back out the door and said, “You coming, Cas?” before disappearing back inside once more. Castiel followed, hovering awkwardly near the door after closing it behind him. “Do you want to take a shower?” 

“Pardon?” He must have misunderstood. Dean couldn’t be asking if he wanted to-

“Do you want to shower first or second?” Dean dropped his duffle onto the bed and began rooting around inside. 

“Oh. Um, first, if that’s alright. The tacky feeling of the blood is somewhat off-putting.” Dean huffed a laugh and glanced over, taking in the crimson splatters adorning his own clothes as showcased by Castiel’s body. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He grabbed a metal canister out of his bag and headed toward the bathroom. “Come on, Cas. I’ll show you what to do.”

He placed his own bag on a nearby chair on his way to join Dean in the bathroom. When he got there, Dean placed the canister down on the counter and turned to face him. “Strip,” he said, a small, crooked smile lighting up his face. When Castiel only stood there staring, Dean approached him and huffed out another small laugh, shaking his head slightly. “You’ve got to take the clothes _off_ if we’re going to get those stains out, Cas.” 

Before Castiel could even attempt a response, Dean reached down and grabbed the hem of his black shirt, skimming the tips of his fingers, and then the warm (very warm) palms of his hands over the soft skin of Castiel’s abdomen as he dragged the shirt agonizingly slowly up and over his head. At that point, Castiel didn’t think he could have spoken even if he knew what to say, which he didn’t.

Dean was touching him again – glorious skin-on-skin contact which sent shivers up and down his spine and an unmistakable heat to his groin. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply when Dean’s hands drifted back down, deft fingers landing lightly on the waistband of his jeans. 

But then the fingers were gone, as was the heat and presence of the man before him. He opened his eyes again to see Dean across the small room, standing in front of the sink. He held Castiel’s blood-stained shirt in his left hand and the canister in his right. “Take the pants off too, and then come watch what I’m doing.” 

Castiel nodded, even though Dean wasn’t looking at him, and then took another few deep breaths to try to will away the arousal that was currently swimming through his veins and making his borrowed jeans uncomfortably tight. He had to get his body under control before he embarrassed himself. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea how to accomplish that goal. 

“Cas?” Pants. Right. Dean wanted him to take off his pants. _Dean wanted him to take off his pants…_ The thought was having the opposite of the desired effect. He brought his own hands up to the fastening of his jeans, and at the last moment decided to turn around and face the door while opening them up and shimmying them down his legs. 

It probably wasn’t the most understated action that he could have taken, but taking his attention away from Dean’s toned body and beautiful face did help slow the beating of his heart just a little. 

The relief was short-lived though, for the pace picked right back up when he turned around and saw that Dean had taken off his own jacket and over-shirt, leaving him in jeans and a fitted t-shirt which emphasized his bulging biceps and muscular forearms. 

Castiel swallowed thickly and approached the sink, hugging the soiled jeans tightly to his chest. “So,” Dean began, picking the shirt and the canister up once more. “Hunting is a messy business, as you’ve probably figured out by now.” Castiel nodded again, watching as Dean attached a thin, red tube to the nozzle of the canister and pointed it at a spot on the shirt before spraying a thin, oily substance over the stain. “This,” he said, holding up the can, which Castiel could see read ‘WD-40’ on the front, “… is one of the Hunter’s best friends.”

He found another darkened patch of drying blood and sprayed more of the viscous fluid, then another, and finally a fourth, and then laid the shirt down on the counter before turning to hold his hand out for the jeans which Castiel was still clutching. He handed them over hesitantly, and then stood there feeling extremely uncomfortable. It was very difficult to concentrate on what Dean was trying to teach him when he was almost naked and standing so close to Dean again. 

“You’ve got to get the blood out before it sets or you’re screwed. This stuff helps with that.” Watching Dean do something as mundane as pre-treating laundry came as something of a surprise to Castiel. If he had thought about it, it would have made sense – he was right, hunting was messy, and someone had to do the cleaning – but he had just never really thought about it before. His mind had always been more focused on the ‘big picture’ – holy missions, apocalypses – that sort of thing. “So, that needs to sit for a few minutes, and then we rinse it out in cold water with some laundry soap. It’ll still need to go through the washer when we get home, but this will keep the blood from staining the clothes.” 

_When we get home…_ The phrase stood out to Castiel, and he found himself latching onto it and never wanting to let go. ‘Home,’ Dean had said, not, ‘the Bunker.’ And he had said, ‘we,’ not ‘I.’ 

They just sort of stood there, staring at each other for several minutes until Dean deemed it long enough to begin rinsing out the clothing. He brought out a bar of light pink soap and scrubbed it into the bloody patches after rinsing out the WD-40, and Castiel was interested to see that the blood actually did wash away. It was no, ‘angel mojo’ cleaning, but it worked well enough. 

“See!” Dean exclaimed, holding the dripping jeans up over the sink for Castiel to see. “Good as new!” he wrung them out and set them aside, then wiped his hands on a towel and turned back to Castiel. “Now, it’s your turn.” 

“But you’ve already cleaned all the bloody clothes…” He tilted his head, showing his confusion. 

“Your turn to get clean, Cas.” He turned to push the shower curtain aside far enough so that he could start the water, giving it a few moments to heat up before pulling the lever that directed the flow of the water to the showerhead. He then looked at Castiel expectantly, dropping his gaze momentarily down to his remaining clothing – a pair of simple black boxer-briefs (Dean’s as well) – and back up to Castiel’s face. 

Did he… did he mean for Castiel to take those off too? Was Dean going to give him _hands-on_ training on how to wash his _very human_ body, just like he had done with the laundry? 

Whether he had been planning to or not, Castiel wasn’t going to find out, because a loud knock came on the motel room door and Dean said, “Ok, shampoo, conditioner, and soap are already in the stall. Towels are right there. Good luck,” before brushing past him to answer the door. Castiel saw that the person knocking on the door was Amy, who entered the room at Dean’s urging, carrying a six-pack of beer. 

He felt saddened again and closed the bathroom door, quickly ridding himself of the rest of his clothing before entering the bathtub and moving to stand under the running water. The water was warm and soothing, saturating his hair and flowing over his aching muscles. He set about reading the instructions on the small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, then busied himself with cleaning and rinsing his hair, exactly as the bottles instructed him. 

The soap was more self-explanatory. He knew that it was for cleaning skin, so he worked up a decent lather and began to rub it over the expanse of his body, taking a mental note of the more sensitive spots for future reference. Soon enough, he was done with that too, and then he was left with a quandary. 

What was he supposed to do when he was finished? Regardless of what Amy may have said, or even believed herself, Castiel was convinced that Dean would want to spend the night with her. In-fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean had already begun his practiced seduction technique, just on the other side of the door. What exactly would Castiel walk in on when he exited the bathroom? 

Which brought him to another distressing thought… He had left his duffle bag, with the rest of the clean clothes that Dean had lent him, on the chair in the main room. He couldn’t put on wet clothing after his shower, so what was he to do? Should he peek his head out the door and ask Dean to bring him the bag, possibly interrupting whatever it was that he and Amy were doing? Or should he maybe just wrap a towel around his waist and try to sneak through the other room, make his way to the room next door, and hope the Candy or Mrs. Tran would let him inside. He supposed he could sleep in the back of the Impala if all else failed, but it wasn’t a scenario which he was looking forward to experiencing.

As it turned out though, when he entered the main room (with a towel around his waist), Amy was nowhere in sight. Dean was reclining on the bed with a beer bottle in his hand (the only one out of the six which was opened, or even out of the back) watching something on the television. “Oh, hey,” he said, turning to give his attention to Castiel. “That was a pretty quick shower. You sure you got everywhere?” 

“Yes, I believe so,” he responded, moving to the chair where his bag was still waiting. “Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I’ll be out of your way shortly.” 

“There’s no rush, Cas. We’re not leaving ‘til morning.” He made no move to leave the bed right away, simply taking a swig of his beer and propping a hand behind his head on the headboard. 

“Oh, well I just thought…” Dean lowered his beer and gave him an inquiring look. “I just figured that you and Amy would want to be alone. Where did she go anyway?” 

“Amy?” He sat up then, twisting his body so that his feet were resting on the floor. 

“Yes, Amy. Is she next door? I can send her back over on my way out.”

“On your way out where?”

“Well, the women probably won’t feel comfortable with me staying in the room with them, so I thought I’d sleep in the Impala. If that’s ok with you, of course.” He found a clean pair of underwear and a t-shirt in the bag, but was stopped from further rummaging when Dean’s hand came down on his arm, causing him to turn slightly to look up into Dean’s face. 

“You’re not sleeping in the car, Cas. If you don’t want to share the bed with me, I guess I can sleep on the couch. I didn’t think it would be a problem since we shared last night. I’d ask for another room but Amy said that these were the last two. She’s staying next door, by the way. She only stopped by to drop off the beer and tell me that they ordered Chinese food. She said she’d bring us some when it gets here.” 

Castiel listened to Dean’s long-winded rambling with a slight sense of awe. He’d never see the Hunter act like that before. “No, it’s fine, Dean. I don’t mind sharing the bed. I just thought that you and Amy-“

“Nah,” Dean said, brushing off the suggestion and walking back to grab his own bag from the bed. “I’m just not feeling it tonight, you know?” 

No, he didn’t know. He would just have to take Dean’s word for it. 

“Anyway, why don’t you change and get comfortable. Have a beer, watch some t.v., pick which side of the bed you want. I’m just going to…” He pointed toward the bathroom and then walked in that direction, closing the door soundly behind him. Castiel could hear the water starting in the shower and decided not to question Dean’s strange behavior. He was going to be sleeping in the Hunter’s bed again, and not outside in the cold. Anything else didn’t really seem to matter at that moment. 

He swiped on some deodorant like Dean had taught him, then put on the boxer-briefs and t-shirt, deciding to forgo any further attire since the only other option he had was jeans, which he assumed weren’t very comfortable to sleep in. Afterward, he grabbed a beer on his way over to the bed, twisting off the cap and tossing it in a nearby waste basket.

Choosing the side of the bed which Dean hadn’t been sitting on, Castiel grabbed the remote and began flipping through channels, taking small sips of his beer as the colorful images flitted across the screen. Another knock came on the door after a little while, so he placed the beer bottle on the nightstand and went to the door.

“Amy, hello. What can I do for you?” 

“Actually, it’s something _I_ can do for _you,_ ” she said, offering him a bag of food, if he wasn’t mistaken. “Dinner, drinks, and a promise that no one else will bother you for the rest of the night.” They could both hear the sound of the shower turning off, and before Castiel could say anything, Amy darted toward the other motel room door and said, “You can thank me later!” before winking and darting through the door. 

“Was that Amy?” Dean said, coming out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and boxer-briefs (just like Castiel). 

“Yes. She was dropping this off.” He closed the door and held up the bag, which Dean took and began unpacking on the table. He took out paper plates and utensils, then proceeded to load the plates with food from all of the various containers. 

Instead of sitting down at the table to eat though, he handed one of the full plates to Castiel, then went over to sit on the bed, grabbing another bottle of beer on his way. “Come on, Cas… live a little. Just don’t tell Sam.” He winked at Castiel, smiling his beautiful little crooked smile, then began to dig into his food, slurping up noodles and directing his gaze at the television. 

“Alright.” Excitement was beginning to build in his chest again. The thought of spending an evening in Dean’s company – with food and drinks and nothing trying to bust down the door to kill them – was positively delightful. “What are we watching?”

***

“If this ‘Dr. Piccolo’ loves this ‘Dr. Sexy,’ then why is she kissing the handsome anesthesiologist?” Cas’s voice was serious, and he was tilting his head and squinting his eyes in that adorable ‘confused bird’ way that he always did when he didn’t understand something. Those eyes were somewhat glazed though, his third bottle of beer tilting alarmingly in his hand a clue as to why. Jeez, human-Cas was a lightweight.

“It’s because she’s pretending that she doesn’t love him, even though everyone around them knows that she does. She doesn’t think she’s good enough for him though, so she’s throwing herself at someone else so that Dr. Sexy will think she’s not interested. That way he’ll be able to forget about her and find someone who truly deserves him.” 

“But it’s obvious that he loves her too. And if she’s the one he wants, shouldn’t she let him decide whether or not he thinks she’s ‘worthy,’ whatever that means,” Cas added in an undertone. 

“Well, yeah, probably. But then where would the drama be?” Cas made a face at that, seemingly unsatisfied with Dean’s answer. “Just watch the show, Cas. It’s Dr. Sexy, not Shakespeare. It’s meant to be enjoyed, not analyzed. And give me that before you spill beer all over the bed.” 

He took the bottle out of Cas’s hand, placing it on his own nightstand and turning off the light before scooting down a little further on the bed. They’d long-since finished eating and were now half-under the covers, lying in bed and watching the t.v. Cas had his head propped on one hand, leaning over so that Dean could smell his shampoo from where his hair almost brushed against the side of Dean’s face. 

When he turned his attention back to the t.v., the scene had changed and one of the male interns was having a heated argument with one of the attending physicians – a handsome, distinguished man in his late thirties. They were in the on-call room, screaming at each other and stomping around, when suddenly, the attending doc threw his clipboard down on the ground and pushed the intern up against the closed door, shutting him up by kissing him forcefully. 

When he pulled back, the intern slapped him across the face and then shoved him across the room, pushing him down on a nearby bed and pouncing on him before kissing him back with wild abandon. 

It quickly devolved from there – kissing and licking and biting each other as they ripped at one another’s clothing. Scrubs and lab coats went flying and before long they were going at it in the bed, their lower-halves artfully covered by a plain white sheet. 

It was hot, that much was undeniable, but what interested Dean even more was the sudden change in atmosphere in the motel room. Cas was squirming next to him, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position, though he had been perfectly fine only three minutes before. 

Dean’s own cock had perked up when the on-screen making out had begun, and he wondered if Cas wasn’t finding himself in a similar situation. He knew that he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help pulling his hand out from behind his head and dropping it down to land lightly on Cas’s soft hair. He let it linger for only a moment before softly caressing the dark locks until his hand rested on the nape of Cas’s neck – a gentle squeeze causing a visible shiver to wrack the man’s body. 

He removed his hand and Cas let his head fall back against the pillow, looking up to Dean with hooded eyes. Without saying a word, Dean maneuvered himself so that he was lying next to Cas, propped up on one hand and looking down into those dark, blue depths. 

He was mesmerizing. Dark hair disheveled and fair cheeks flushed – his full lips parting so that his pink tongue could dart out and wet them. Dean licked his own lips in response then threw caution to the wind, swooping down and pressing their lips together in a perfect, sensual kiss. 

He was kissing Cas! Finally! And it was good – soft and sweet as he let Dean set the pace. He pulled back after only a few moments though, wanting to check Cas’s reaction. He was smiling dreamily – his hands resting unresisting on either side of his head. Dean smiled back in return, then kissed him again on the mouth before moving on to his jaw and then down his neck. He smelled incredible and felt even better beneath Dean’s lips and roving hand. 

After a little while, Dean moved back up, cupping Cas’s cheek in one hand and looking into his… closed eyes? Wait… 

“Cas?” Dean spoke softly. “Hey, you awake?” No answer. He removed his hand and Cas’s head drifted to the side. “Figures,” he said, shaking his head fondly at the snoozing angel. 

Oh well, no use in crying over almost-spilled beer. Cas really was a light-weight, Dean thought. And he was probably pretty tired after his first fight without grace. Dean really couldn’t blame him, he supposed. Besides, there was always tomorrow. Cas _had_ been awake for that first kiss. Maybe they could pick up where they left off when they woke up in the morning. 

He clicked off the t.v. and laid back down, snuggling up against Cas’s side and smiling to himself when he unconsciously rolled over and rested back into the warm embrace of Dean’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently there are many ways to get blood out of clothing. This one just seemed like the most "Dean" way to do it.


	7. About Last Night

Morning came, and with it came pleasant memories of the night before. Dean stretched, wondering if he should get up and brush his teeth before waking Cas up with a good morning kiss. But the urge to get his hands back into Cas’s hair, and his lips back onto Cas’s throat was just too overwhelming to wait, so he opened his eyes and rolled over and… nothing. The other side of the bed was empty, and cold. 

Dean sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and cocking his head to listen for the sound of running water from the bathroom, but no, the only sound he could hear was the distant noise of cars driving by on the road outside. 

“Cas?” Feeling foolish for missing the angel, and wondering if this was how all his one-night-stands felt the morning after, Dean got up to seek Cas out. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, but he knocked anyway, pushing it open when he got no response. 

Also empty. “Damn it, Cas,” Dean said, to no one apparently. “Where the hell are you?”

The angel’s duffle bag was still in the main room, but his shoes and jacket were missing. Dean dressed quickly and checked his phone by habit – no missed calls or texts – then snatched up his keys off the table before practically ripping the door of its hinges in his haste to find his wayward angel. 

“Dean!” Well, angel found then. Dean reached out to grab the drinks carrier that was about to take a tumble. Good thing too – five hot coffees spilling all over them wouldn’t have felt very good at all. 

“Where were you? And why didn’t you tell me you were leaving? I woke up and you were gone!” 

Cas shifted where he stood, looking down at his feet guiltily before looking back up and lifting the bag that he was holding in his other hand. “I apologize for worrying you. I went out to get breakfast,” he said by way of explanation. 

Dean took a deep breath, feeling guilty as well for the rough way in which he had spoken. He wasn’t mad, not really… he had just been worried is all. “Oh.” 

The door to the next room swung open then, interrupting whatever else either of them may have wanted to say. “Mornin’, boys!” Amy greeted. “What do you have there?” 

“Breakfast,” Cas informed her, holding up the bag once more. 

“Excellent!” she responded, moving to the side and gesturing for the men to enter her room. They did so, and went immediately over to the table to deposit their goods. 

Candy and Mrs. Tran were there as well, both looking much better – clean and patched up, and wearing fresh clothing as well. They were probably Amy’s, and Dean smiled at her, silently thanking her for looking out for them. 

“Pie?” Dean turned at Mrs. Tran’s voice. She had emptied the bag that Cas had brought, the contents consisting of cream and sugar for the coffee, a small package of paper plates, plastic utensils, and a whole pie – blueberry, if the little sticker on the packaging was to be believed. “Pie for breakfast?” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Dean said. He had seen Cas’s face fall at her judgmental-sounding response, and there was no way in Hell that Dean was going to let Cas ever feel bad about buying or eating pie. “Pie is the breakfast of champions! First slice is mine! What is that, blueberry? Great choice, Cas!” 

Cas’s face lit right back up at Dean’s words, his smile small, but perfect nonetheless. Dean smiled back twice as big, then went about cutting up the pie and dishing it out while the others doctored their coffees to their individual tastes.

Dean took a big bite of his own slice of pie, then thought of something. The women were all sitting around the table, eating and drinking coffee, but Cas had gone over and sat on one of the beds. Dean joined him, sitting opposite him on the other bed. “So, where did you get the money to pay for all this?” 

“I took it from your wallet.” Cas said it as though picking his pocket was no big thing – perfectly normal response, no worries what so ever. “Do you like it?” he asked, pointing to Dean’s pie with his own fork. “It was the only kind the convenience store had.”

“Yeah, Cas, it’s great.” He scooped up another bite and ate it enthusiastically. Positive reinforcement and all that, couldn’t hurt, right? He swallowed thickly though when he watched Cas eat his own bite – his full lips pursing around the tines of the fork as he slid it out of his mouth, his wet tongue darting out to lick an errant crumb off the corner of his mouth. 

He wanted to say something about the previous night, but he wasn’t sure exactly what. Should he ask if he had enjoyed himself? Maybe see if he wanted to do it again as soon as humanly possible? God, Dean felt like such a teenaged girl all of a sudden. The words were stuck in his throat along with the pie, so he took a sip of his coffee, hoping it might help.

“Uh… so, about last night,” he began, glancing up to gage Cas’s reaction. He looked completely nonplussed – no blushing, no averting his eyes – no evidence that he may be uncomfortable with that particular conversation topic. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything.”

Cas finished chewing and swallowed, following it with his own sip of coffee before answering. “No, of course not, Dean.” Dean smiled, relieved that at least he hadn’t made a complete ass of himself by putting the moves on his best friend. “I actually really appreciate what you did. I think it was a really good thing for me to learn how to do right away. As you know, I don’t have much practice where that stuff’s concerned, and doing that kind of thing as an angel is really quite different.”

Dean nodded, recalling their trip to the brothel, and the one time that he had watched Cas kiss Meg when the Hellhounds had been nipping at their heels. So yeah, kissing probably did feel different when done as an angel, especially if his only example had been to kiss a demon. “So, uh… do you think you’d want me to show you some more, maybe? Practice makes perfect, you know.” 

Cas finished his last forkful of pie and set his plate on the nightstand. “I appreciate the offer, Dean, but I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m pretty sure I’ll remember how.” He stood up then and gathered his trash to throw away. “If I have any further need of instruction I’ll ask you, though… or I guess Sam could always show me if you’re busy.”

Dean just sat there, speechless, as Cas gave him one last appreciative smile before walking away. 

What. The. Fuck. 

_Sam?!_

Jesus, Dean was such a fool. Cas just saw their brief make-out session as a simple learning experience. Of course he did. How could Dean ever think that he was good enough for Cas to actually be interested in him?

“Alright. Breakfast over. Now – take me to my son.” Dean felt like he was going to throw up. He looked down at the half-eaten piece of pie on his plate and couldn’t possibly think about eating another bite. 

Instead he stood and walked quickly toward the door, a parting shot of, “Outside, two minutes,” spoken gruffly on his way out. 

Cas followed him next door, but he couldn’t even bare to look at him. He merely grabbed his own packed duffle and swept right back out of the room and to the trunk of the Impala. Amy was there waiting for him, the other three still inside.

“Soooo… how was last night?” She had a shit-eating grin on her face and Dean felt his stomach drop at the insinuation in her voice. “Feelin’ any closer to God this morning, if you know what I mean?” 

“No,” he said gruffly. He busied himself with shifting his bag around pointlessly. There was plenty of room, he just didn’t want to have to look in her face and tell her the truth. 

“Well why not? I know you’re into him, Dean. After the way you talked about him the last time we got together, and then seeing the way you look at him… you can’t tell me that you didn’t want to.” 

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, praying that he wouldn’t start crying when he felt his eyes begin to sting. Seriously, what the hell? He was being a goddamn child. When he opened them again, he could see Cas and the women leaving the rooms, all heading in their direction. “He’s not interested.” 

He left it at that, grabbing Cas’s bag, and then Mrs. Tran’s when they reached the trunk. Amy stopped him from taking Candy’s though, informing him that she would be taking the woman home herself. Mrs. Tran thanked her for her assistance and gave Candy a parting hug before climbing into the backseat without further ado. Cas hesitated at the passenger-side door though, looking at Dean questioningly and seeming to sense the shift in the Hunter’s mood. 

Amy gave Candy her key and pointed her in the direction of her car. Then she reached up to hug Dean around the neck and whispered in his ear. “He is. I’m sure of it. Don’t lose heart.” He hugged her back, wishing on his baby that she were right, but knowing that she couldn’t be. Then he thanked her for her help and went to get in the driver’s seat. 

He started her up and was about to shout to Cas to get his ass in the car when he noticed that Amy had walked over and was talking to him. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t take long, and soon enough Cas was in the car and Dean was backing up and driving away. 

He pushed in a cassette tape to cover the awkward silence in the car and settled in for a long drive. He could feel Cas’s gaze boring into the side of his skull, but there was no way that Dean was going to look back at him. It would hurt too much right now, so he stared straight ahead and tried to think about anything besides the dreamy, blue eyes and soft, plush lips of the man sitting beside him… though it had never been a more difficult endeavor. 

***

There was something wrong with Dean. The Hunter had gone from convivial and smiling one minute, to angry and brooding the next, and Castiel had no idea why. He could only assume that it was something that he himself had done wrong though. Because they’d gone the whole three hour drive without Dean so much as glancing at him once. 

Castiel had spent that three hours going over everything that had happened that morning in his head, and he just couldn’t figure it out. And now they were back at the Bunker and Dean still wouldn’t look at him. 

He waited until they had all gone through the door – Mrs. Tran in the lead, eager to see Kevin – before grabbing Dean’s arm and pulling him to a stop. He walked around to stand in front of him when Dean refused to so much as look in his direction, blocking his way to the staircase. 

“Dean, please,” he pleaded, pitching his voice low. Though he needn’t had bothered – the family reunion going on below was loud enough to drown out any amount of noise. “Would you at least look at me?”

Dean lifted his head, though he didn’t look happy to do so. His face looked as though he was going to battle, as opposed to simply having a conversation with a friend. 

Castiel gave him a chance to speak, a chance that Dean refused to take. “What’s wrong? What did I do? I don’t understand why you’re angry with me.” 

“I’m not…” Dean sighed and looked back down at the ground, seeming to think for a few moments before looking back up. “I’m not angry, ok? I’m just-“

“Hey, guys.” Sam had joined them abruptly – a means to give the Trans some semblance of privacy, no doubt. “Cas, I’ve got a room all set up for you. Would you like me to show you?”

It definitely wasn’t on the top of his list at the moment. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than for Dean to explain what the matter was so that he could do whatever he needed to make him smile again. But Dean was already pulling away, and it would probably be rude to tell Sam to ‘piss off,’ as Dean sometimes liked to say. 

“Sure, Sam. I would appreciate that very much.” Dean was already halfway down the stairs by the time Castiel finished his sentence, soon turning the corner to go down the hall to his own room. Sam followed him, and Castiel followed Sam until they came to the door of a room across the hall a short distance from Dean’s own. 

“This is it,” Sam said, stepping aside so that Cas could enter. “It isn’t much, but it should have everything you need.” The room was sparsely furnished, but as Sam had said, it had everything that he needed. 

“Thank you, Sam. This will do nicely.” He placed his bag on the bed, and then remembered there was something else that he needed. Dean had taught him a little about cleaning clothing the night before, and he had asked Castiel if he wanted him to show him more, but after that his mood had changed so drastically that Castiel didn’t know if Dean would still be amenable to helping him if he was asked. Castiel had been sure that Sam would help him though, so he figured that he might as well ask… 

“I can give you a tour of the Bunker now, if you want,” Sam offered. 

“Yes, that would probably be a good idea. Also, I wonder if you might teach me more about laundry.” He hefted his bag up on his shoulder again and gestured to it. “I have some clothing that needs further cleaning.”

“Yeah, absolutely. Just bring them with. I’ll show you the laundry room first.” 

Castiel spent the next few hours learning how to do laundry and following Sam around the Bunker. They ate lunch and spent some time in the library, and then Castiel decided to retire to his own room for a while. The last stop on the tour had been a peek into the dungeon, where a very grumpy Crowley had taunted them unceasingly. Eventually Sam had told the demon to shut up and ushered Castiel out again, warning him not to go back in there alone.

They hadn’t seen even one glimpse of Dean the whole afternoon, but as the evening began to pass by, Castiel’s gaze was suddenly drawn to a head of dark blonde hair passing by his open doorway. He put down the book he’d been reading and went to follow, stopping just outside the door when he realized that Sam and Dean were standing together at the end of the hall.

“Get out of my way, Sam. I’m going out,” he heard Dean say.

“Going out where?” Sam replied. 

“Just out.”

“What the hell, Dean?” Sam’s voice had risen in exasperation, and Castiel couldn’t blame him. Dean was being especially truculent, and for no apparent reason. “What is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just need a drink, so I’m going _out_. Do you have a problem with that?” 

“Nope, no problem at all, Dean. In fact, I could use a drink too. Why don’t I join you?” Castiel was lingering in his doorway, just out of sight of the brothers, so he couldn’t see Dean’s expression. If he had to hazard a guess though, it probably wasn’t one of patience or agreeableness. 

“Suit yourself, man. But I’m leaving now, so if you’re not ready to go-“

“No worries, I’m ready.” He heard Sam’s door shut and then footsteps in the hall, but they were coming towards his door instead of away. “Just give me two seconds… I’m going to ask Cas if he wants to come too.”

Cas rushed back over to his bed and picked up the book he’d been reading, trying to act like he hadn’t been listening to the brothers like a common eavesdropper. 

“Cas, hey,” Sam said, knocking on the doorframe and peeking his head inside the room. “Dean and I are going out for a drink. Would you like to join us?” 

He really considered saying ‘no.’ Even though he didn’t know why Dean was acting the way he was, he knew that adding alcohol to the mix probably wouldn’t actually help matters. But Castiel was weak, and he couldn’t pass up a chance to spend more time with Dean – regardless of how grumpy the Hunter was acting. So he gave Sam a nod in agreement, set the book on his nightstand, and grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair, clicking off the light switch on his way out.

At least if the outing went poorly, Castiel could still return back to his bed and the pleasant dreams that he’d already grown accustomed to having starring his favorite human. Last night’s had been particularly realistic – Castiel could still feel the full-bodied shiver that had went through him at the feel of a strong hand smoothing through his hair before squeezing gently on the back of his neck… the tingle of Dean’s mouth against his own before it mapped out the sensitive skin of his throat. 

It had gotten a bit fuzzy after that, but he was already quite looking forward to seeing what would happen when he closed his eyes again tonight. Even if the real Dean wanted nothing to do with him… dream Dean was always happy to spend time with him.


	8. Food and Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some Sam POV!

“Keys, Dean.” Sam held his hand out to his brother, palm up. Dean rolled his eyes, but eventually relented, handing over the keys to the Impala. 

“That just means I can drink as much as I want,” Dean said, flippantly. “But you…” He walked up to Cas and pointed one menacing finger in the angel’s face, making his eyes go crossed as he tried to keep focus on it. “Pace yourself.” He turned to walk into the bar, and Sam and Cas followed, keeping up while Dean continued to talk – his words directed at Sam. “Last night, after only three beers, this one passes out like a drunken prom date during some really quality television.” 

Dean pointed his thumb at Cas while he talked, earning him a look of surprise from the angel – who actually stopped in his tracks as he gaped. 

“Cas? You ok?” Sam asked. Dean hadn’t bothered staying behind. He walked right in with his usual swagger, leaving Sam and Cas standing outside in the cold. “Cas?”

At the further prodding, Cas closed his mouth and swallowed thickly, then turned to look briefly at Sam before directing his gaze to the ground. “Yes, Sam. I’m fine. Should we go inside now?”

“Yeah, sure, man.” They began to walk again, but Sam didn’t like the dejected slope to his friend’s shoulders, so he stopped them once more with a grip on Cas’s jacket. “Cas, wait.”

“What is it, Sam?”

“It’s just… I only wanted to say, that if there’s ever something that you feel like you need to talk about, you can come to me… with anything, you know that, right?” 

Cas looked up with an aggrieved expression, and for a moment, Sam truly thought that the man might take him up on his offer. But instead, Cas seemed to rethink his decision. “Thank you, Sam. That is a very kind offer. And I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.” 

He offered up a sad smile, which Sam returned, and then they both went inside. Sam lead Cas to the bar where they found Dean – already sipping on a beer and laughing with the bartender, Donnie. The place was actually pretty crowded for once, but Sam wasn’t at all surprised to see that Dean was monopolizing all of the man’s attention. His brother’s natural charm and flirtatious personality always seemed to have that effect on people. 

“Hey, Donnie.”

“Sam! Hey. How’s it going, man?” Sam sat down on the stool one over from where Dean was sitting, and gestured for Cas to sit between them. 

“Honestly, I’ve been better. But then again, I’ve been worse too, so I guess I can’t complain.” He pickedup the beer that Donnie pushed over to him and took a swig. Then he put a comforting hand on Cas’s shoulder and said, “Hey, Donnie… I’d like to introduce you to our friend, Castiel. Cas, this is Donnie.” 

“Hello, Donnie,” Cas said, giving the bartender a warm smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Castiel. So what’s your poison?”

Cas cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, obviously confused by the question. “I do not produce any toxic substances. Though I suppose-“

“He’s asking what you want to drink, Cas,” Dean said, rolling his eyes and standing up. He grabbed his beer off the bar and left them then, walking over to the pool tables where two women were playing – poorly, by the looks of things. 

“Oh. Um… I’ll just have whatever Sam is having, please.” Cas glanced Dean’s way one more time – watching him smile at and chat with the red-head – before he dropped his head dejectedly and turned back around to face the bar. 

“Here you go, handsome,” Donnie said with a smile, giving Cas a wink as he set the opened beer bottle in front of him. “First one’s on me.” 

Cas smiled back, looking somewhat unsure as Donnie walked away to help another patron. “He means that you don’t have to pay for your first drink. He bought it for you.” 

“That was very nice of him.” Cas took a sip of his beer, and Sam watched him watching Donnie mixing drinks a little ways down. He couldn’t quite tell if the angel was more intent on observing the bartender’s occupation or on the man himself. 

Which made Sam curious… As a full-powered angel, Cas had never really shown much interest in things like sex or intimacy, at least overtly. But now that he was practically human, would that change? It had been obvious to Sam for quite some time that Castiel was in love with Dean. Sam even liked to amuse himself by teasing Dean about it. 

But even though Sam could also tell that Dean had real feelings for Cas, he honestly didn’t know if his brother would ever be able to act on those feelings. And if not, where did that leave Cas? Was he just supposed to pine in solitude for the rest of his life?

_No,_ Sam thought… _Not if I have anything to say about it._ And yeah, if Dean ever decided to get his head out of his ass and do something about his feelings, like a god damn adult, then Sam would be the first to support his brother. But until then…

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Sam?” His eyes seemed to linger on Donnie’s ass as the bartender bent over to pick up a rag that had fallen to the floor. Sam waited until Cas’s attention was back on him before speaking again.

“What do you think?” he asked, gesturing to Donnie with a jerk of his chin. Then he bounced his eyebrows in his best Dean impression just for good measure. “See something you like?” 

He looked at Donnie again, then back to Sam, obviously unsure as to exactly what Sam was asking him. “I see many things that I like here, Sam.” Sam couldn’t help but notice how Cas’s gaze cut quickly to where Dean was – still over by the pool tables, though now his body was snugged up against the red-head’s back as he bent her over the pool table, his hands over hers on the pool cue… _helping_ her aim, presumably. 

There was such longing on Cas’s face, but he did his best to hide it – turning back around and taking a long drink from his beer. 

“Yeah, I know that, Cas. But I meant Donnie, specifically. Think you might be interested?” As Cas seemed to consider the possibility, Sam saw Donnie turn to look back at them, his eyes finding Cas’s right away. And then he winked, offering the angel a bright, wide smile as well. Cas returned it, somewhat more hesitantly, but he returned it. The look was so endearing on his friend’s face that Sam wished it was something that they were able to see more often. “Because I’m pretty damn sure that he’s interested in you.”

 

“I don’t know, Sam,” Cas began. “I mean… he is very attractive, but I’ve never… That is to say, I haven’t… I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

“Oh, well that’s easy. Just be yourself.” He rose to his feet, intent on giving Cas some space so that Donnie could make his move. “But, uh… maybe keep the angel stuff to yourself, yeah?” He began to walk away, but turned back once more. “Oh, and as far as Donnie knows, Dean is a mechanic and I’m a paralegal. So if he asks you about your job, just pick something you know a lot about and go with it. And you know, just try to have fun.” 

Cas gave him a serious look and nodded. Sam could already see the cogs turning in his head as he tried to come up with a story to tell the bartender if he asked about his profession. Hoping for the best, Sam went all the way down to the opposite end of the bar and took a seat, looking up to a game that was playing on the t.v. – his ostensible reason for leaving his friend alone. 

He kept one eye on Cas, and one eye on Dean over the next hour. Both men seemed surprisingly uninterested in the other’s affairs, but Sam was starting to get bored. Deciding to leave Cas to his new-found endeavor, Sam got up and used the restroom before joining Dean at the pool table. Both women were still there with Dean, so Sam thought the four of them might be able to play a game.

Dean seemed surprised to see him though. Well, not to see him, per se, but to see him alone, because as soon as Sam approached, Dean was looking behind Sam and toward the bathroom. “Where’s Cas? He in the can?” 

The red-head was trying to get Dean’s attention back on her, but Dean wasn’t having it. He just stared expectantly at Sam until he answered. “Uh… no. He’s in the same spot that he’s been since we got here.”

They both turned to the bar, expecting to see Cas sitting there. But he wasn’t. Donnie was gone too. A woman that Sam didn’t recognize was tending bar and wiping down the spot where Cas had just been sitting. 

They scanned the bar for Cas, and both caught sight of him at the same time. He was just stepping through the door to the parking lot – Donnie walking behind him, guiding Cas out with a hand on his lower back. 

“Crap,” Sam said, watching them go. “I didn’t get a chance to remind him about protection, now that he doesn’t have his grace protecting him. Do you think he knows about condoms?” 

Dean surprised everyone when he threw the pool cue down abruptly and angrily stalked through the bar and out the door. Sam gave the girls and apologetic look, but didn’t waste any time before following his brother. 

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam whispered, looking ahead to where the couple was headed.

Donnie and Cas were approaching a new-ish, red Camero, their voices floating softly on the cool night air. “You have a very nice car, Donnie. I like it very much.” Sam heard Dean practically growl at Cas’s words, and Sam just hoped that his brother would at least consider not just shooting first and asking questions later.   
“Thanks, Cas. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” The car unlocked with a beep, but just as Donnie reached for the handle, Dean reached him. He slammed the bartender up against the side of the car, pinning him there with a forearm on the back of his neck. 

“Dean!” Sam and Cas both shouted simultaneously. They held back though, waiting to see exactly what Dean was doing. Sam looked around nervously. Had Dean seen something that Sam hadn’t? Did his brother think Donnie was possessed or something? There had to be something going on.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh?” Dean asked, leaning in close and never letting up his hold on the man. 

“We were just getting a book from my car! I swear!” Donnie wasn’t really trying to struggle very much, from what Sam could tell. He also sounded genuinely afraid. 

“Getting a book?” Dean scoffed. “Is that what the kids are calling it now-a-days?!” Donnie rolled his eyes, still not struggling, but looking markedly more annoyed. 

“Yes. A book. Cas said-“

“ _Castiel,_ ” Dean interrupted.

“What?”

“His name is Castiel… not ‘handsome,’ not ‘baby,’ not-“

“I never called him ‘baby,’ Dean.”

“ _You_ don’t get to call him ‘Cas.’ Got it?” 

“Dean! What has gotten into you?! Most people call me ‘Cas’.” He stomped up to Dean and pushed him back. “Let him go!” Dean relented and Cas helped Donnie turn around, looking him over with eyes and hands to make sure that he wasn’t damaged by Dean’s rough treatment. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” Sam just stood there, somewhat in awe. He knew that Dean could be a possessive bastard, but this was taking it to a whole new level. 

“Forgive my brother, Donnie. I think he’s suffering from low blood sugar. Maybe we should get you something to eat, Dean. What do you say?” 

“Yeah, we should go. Come on, Cas. We’re leaving.” Dean began to walk away, but Cas stayed, looking pained as he split is gaze between Donnie at his side and Dean striding to the Impala. 

“It’s ok, Castiel,” Donnie assured him. “I can show you the book some other time.” Cas nodded and squeezed the bartender’s arm, and then started walking after Dean, getting into the backseat when he reached the Impala. Sam stayed behind for a minute, wanting to talk to Donnie alone.

“Again, I’m really sorry, man. Dean’s not usually like that. I don’t know what he was thinking.” Donnie chuckled. He relocked his car then and started walking with Sam. 

“I know exactly what he was thinking, Sam. He was thinking that I was putting the moves on his boyfriend… and he was right.” Sam started to disagree, but it was hard to do when that’s exactly what it had looked like. “We really were coming out here to look at a book though. Like I said, I was putting the moves on Cas… back in the bar. But it was obvious that his heart is already taken – he managed to mention Dean with just about every subject we talked about. He mentioned that he knew Latin at one point though, and I had this book that had some Latin in it. He offered to translate it for me. That’s why we were out here.” 

“Hey, no need to convince me.” Dean honked the horn obnoxiously, making Sam huff in annoyance. “Well, I should probably go.” Donnie nodded and gave Sam a weak smile. “Try not to stay too pissed at Dean. He’s a fool… Don’t take it personally.” Donnie’s smile became more genuine and Sam returned it before leaving him and jogging over to the Impala. 

The atmosphere in the car was tense. Dean was white-knuckling it on the steering wheel – jaw ticking as he brooded. Cas’s demeanor was different, but it wasn’t much better. He looked to be angry and contrite – the conflicting emotions flickering across his face as he shifted his gaze between his own lap and the back of Dean’s head. 

They reached the Bunker in record time. Neither Kevin, nor Mrs. Tran were in the common rooms, but Sam figured that they were probably already in bed. Kevin had a habit of keeping terrible hours and not getting enough sleep… or food… or proper hygiene practices, but if anyone could change that, it would be Mrs. Tran. 

Cas announced that he was going to bed, so Sam wished him a good night. Dean just nodded tersely, and Cas looked back sadly before disappearing down the hall. 

“You need to stop, Dean.” Sam blocked his brother’s way to his room – his large, imposing form taking up the doorway. 

“Stop what? Get out of my way, Sam.” 

“You need to stop acting like a gigantic dick. You need to start being nice to Cas again.” Dean rolled his eyes and tried to knock Sam out of the way, but he stood firm. “You were being so attentive a couple days ago. What happened?”

“Nothing happened. But if it means that much to you, how about I go fluff his pillow for him? Maybe shine his shoes? Should I wipe his ass for him too, Sam? Would that be ‘attentive’ enough for you?”

Sam sighed. He knew all too well the point at which Dean would be impossible to talk to, and this was the point. The sarcasm was out in full force… there was no getting passed it tonight. 

“Fine, be a dick. But if you’re not careful, you’re going to lose him, Dean. You saw what happened tonight. Donnie isn’t the only person in the world who’s going to be interested in him. And now that he’s human, there’s a good chance that Cas may just want to find out exactly where that kind of interest may lead. 

“And don’t try to pretend that that thought doesn’t bother you. You can fool yourself and everyone else, but you can’t fool me, Dean. I know that you have feelings for him.”

“Are you done?” Dean stood there with his arms folded over his chest – his face a mask of cold indifference. 

“Yeah… I’m done.” He moved to the side and Dean simply walked past him, striding purposely to his room and slamming the door shut behind him. The loud noise was jarring and Sam flinched. He knew that he had probably went too far, but someone had to say it. Sam loved his brother, but he was a stubborn jackass. And like all stubborn jackasses, sometimes he just needed a good smack to get moving. 

***

Castiel lay in his bed, staring at the darkened ceiling, his hands clasped together on his midsection. Sam had put a nightlight in one of the outlets near the floor, so the room wasn’t completely black. But it was still a strange feeling to not be able to see more than his human eyes could perceive. 

He tried to listen for any noises being made nearby. But besides the low whooshing sound of the forced-air heating rushing through the vents, he couldn’t discern anything. The silence was almost deafening. Castiel certainly wasn’t used to it. And without the soft snores and gentle breathing of the Winchesters there to lull him to sleep, Castiel was experiencing his first bout of insomnia. 

He had only drank one beer at the bar, and that over the course of a whole hour, so he wasn’t aided into slumber like he had been last night.

_Last night…_

Castiel rolled over and seriously considered pulling the blankets up over his head… or possibly jamming his head under the pillow. How could he have fallen asleep in the middle of kissing Dean Winchester?! 

Hearing Dean complain of his behavior to Sam, and knowing that what he had thought was a dream had actually really taken place, was equal parts thrilling and mortifying. Dean had obviously been upset. But was he disappointed as well? And if so, was he merely disappointed that Castiel had fallen asleep? Or had Castiel’s performance been disappointing as well? 

And was that why the Hunter was so angry with him? And why he had left Castiel’s side immediately when they had arrived at the bar? So that he could go find someone that would be able to satisfy him like Castiel couldn’t? 

And why was he even thinking about this? Castiel was an angel of the Lord! A warrior! Not some sniveling, insecure child that required validation in such an unimportant, human skill as kissing…

But he wanted it. He wanted validation, and he wanted more kissing. He wanted to feel Dean’s warm, wet lips moving against his own… to experience the sensation of a gentle touch on the sensitive skin of his chest. The novelty of lying on his back and welcoming the looming presence above him instead of pushing it away… he yearned for it… craved it… hungered for-

Castiel’s stomach growled – pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back to the here and now. Sam had told him that he could help himself to any of the food or drink in the kitchen if he got hungry or thirsty, so Castiel stood up and padded out of his room and through the halls in his bare feet. The chill was a little uncomfortable, but not unbearable. The heating was quite sufficient in the Bunker. It was one of the many things that he loved about his new home.

_His new home…_ He hoped that the Winchesters wouldn’t mind if he considered it as such. But Dean had said-

“Dean!” Castiel’s heart leapt into his throat as he rounded the counter in the kitchen and found the Hunter sitting on the floor – drinking a beer and looking at something on his phone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll come back later.”

“Cas, wait…” Castiel stopped in his movement toward the doorway. “You came in here for a reason, right? You hungry? Thirsty?” Castiel’s stomach decided to answer that for him – choosing that moment to rumble loudly into the quiet stillness of the kitchen. “Guess that answers that. Have a seat…I’ll get you something.” 

Castiel did as he was bid. He sat down at the table and folded his hands into his lap while he watched Dean work. He grabbed a flat pan and placed it on the stovetop, then turned the knob until a blue flame burst merrily into being. 

Next, he took a loaf of bread off a pantry shelf, along with two plates, then moved over to open the refrigerator where he took out a little yellow plastic tub, and two different kinds of cheeses. He then piled his bounty onto the counter top, pulled a knife out of the wooden knife block, and pointed it at Castiel. “On second thought… come here. I’m going to teach you how to make one of life’s greatest pleasures… grilled cheese sandwiches.” 

Rising awkwardly to his (still bare) feet, Castiel shuffled over to stand near Dean – close enough to observe, but not so close as to be in the way, he hoped. 

“First,” he began, untying the knotted end of the clear, plastic bag. “Bread. Two slices for each sandwich.” A small stack of bread – six slices high – soon sat on one of the plates. “Next, butter. Or in this case… a butter-like spread. It doesn’t harden up like real butter, so we don’t have to wait a hundred years for it to be spreadable.” He handed a butter knife to Castiel while he spoke, and then proceeded to open the yellow container and scoop out some of the contents with his own butter knife.

Castiel watched him spread the contents onto one side of the first slice of bread, and then move on to do the same to the next. He pushed the little plastic tub closer to Castiel when he was done with the second slice, and Castiel took the hint and mimicked him, finishing two slices in the time it took Dean to complete the other four.

“Alright. Now, the pan should be hot enough. What we want to do now is to start with three slices of bread – butter side down.” Dean completed this task on his own, positioning them precisely in the pan. “Now comes the best part… the cheese. I like to use two kinds – shredded cheddar and sliced American. Here, open these.”

He handed Castiel three individually wrapped cheese slices, which he opened while Dean scooped out handfuls of the shredded cheddar cheese. He sprinkled little piles of cheddar on each piece of bread, and then directed Castiel to add one bright yellow square on top of each little pile. 

“Top slice goes down on each sandwich, and then we wait a minute or two for the cheese to melt.” They did so – Dean using a spatula to lift one corner of one sandwich to check the doneness before sliding the spatula all the way under it. He flipped the thing – only losing a little bit of the cheddar with the motion – and then handed the spatula over to Castiel so that he could flip the other two. 

Their fingers brushed during the handoff – sending a fluttering sensation, as if there were several very enthusiastic butterflies, flitting about the angel’s stomach. He tried to ignore the feeling and focus on the task at hand, but it was difficult. Dean’s body, so close to his own, was warm and tempting. And Castiel wanted nothing more than to let the sandwiches burn so that he could relive last night’s supposed dream.

His hand was suddenly trembling – the jolt of arousal causing his penis to twitch and thicken. The combined burst of adrenaline and feeling of embarrassment worked to make his empty stomach roll with what he thought was probably nausea. The toasted sandwiches smelled delightful though, and the steadying hand that Dean placed on top of Castiel’s own to help him flip the last sandwich was oddly comforting to his jarred nerves. 

Dean let go and took a couple steps back, then busied himself with collecting two glasses and filling them with milk from the refrigerator. He handed the glasses to Castiel, who carried them to the table. Dean soon joined him with the sandwiches, which he had cut on the diagonal.

At first, Castiel could only stare. Dean’s blissful face and the sinful sounds he made while he ate were extremely distracting. After finishing one half of his first sandwich though, he gave Castiel a questioning look, which spurred the angel on to pick up his own delicious-smelling triangle. 

He took a large bite – already knowing from the smell alone that he would like it – and he wasn’t disappointed. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the first taste and he found himself closing his eyes and unable to focus on anything besides the crunchy, salty, gooey perfection rolling around in his mouth. 

Before he knew it, he had eaten the whole sandwich, and Dean was staring at him with his mouth open slightly. He swallowed audibly when Castiel picked up his glass and began drinking his milk – eyes focused on Dean the whole time. “Good?” Dean asked. Castiel placed the half-drunk glass back down on the table and nodded in agreement, eying the yet untouched third sandwich on Dean’s plate. “Want more?” he guessed with a raised brow and a slight smirk.

Castiel nodded once more and watched closely as Dean picked up half of the third sandwich and handed it out to him. He pulled back when Castiel reached for it though – cocking his head and giving Castiel a contemplative look. 

“How much do you want it, Cas?” 

Castiel didn’t even stop to consider his response. He simply leaned forward and said, “Very much.” Not even sure if he was still talking about the sandwich. 

“And what would you be willing to do for it?” He brought the cheesy triangle up to his own mouth and tore off one corner with his teeth – quirking his mouth up in a teasing grin while he slowly chewed. 

Castiel swallowed reflexively at the same time as Dean. Yes, he wanted the sandwich, but there was something else that he wanted even more…

“ _Anything…_ ”

Dean looked genuinely surprised at that, but only gave it a moment’s thought before pushing his chair back and beckoning to Castiel with one crooked finger. The angel stood, and then walked around the table to stand in front of Dean, wondering what the Hunter wanted him to do. 

“Come closer,” Dean commanded. Castiel closed the short distance between them – his bare knees brushing Dean’s jean-clad ones. Castiel had been attired for bed – wearing nothing but his underwear and a threadbare t-shirt – while dean was still fully-clothed, right down to his brown leather boots. “Sit,” he said then, slapping his slightly-parted thighs so that there would be no confusion as to exactly where Castiel was meant to go. 

Castiel slid down onto Dean’s lap after only a moment’s hesitation. He didn’t say a word though. He really had no idea what to say. Was Dean going to kiss him again? Perhaps he thought Castiel deserved another chance to prove his worth? Well, at least there was no chance that he would fall asleep this time.

Once Castiel was seated, Dean let his hands trail up the angel’s thighs, finally landing on his hips where he squeezed firmly. The sensation caused even more blood to rush to his groin, and Castiel had to tighten his grip on Dean’s shoulders to stop himself from automatically thrusting his hips forward. 

“You like that?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded somewhat drunkenly as Dean continued to grip his hips – his calloused thumbs rubbing over smooth skin and hard ridge of bone peeking over the waistband of his boxer briefs. “Still hungry?”

Once again, Castiel found himself bobbing his head up and down. He thought it likely that he would agree with anything that Dean asked him right now though. 

Removing one hand from Castiel’s hip, Dean reached over and grabbed a sandwich half, which he brought up to Castiel’s mouth so that he could take a bite. It was just as delicious as before, but the sight of Dean so close… the feel of warm, hard muscle beneath him… was actually quite distracting. 

“More?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded and leaned forward, but Dean pulled the sandwich out of his reach. “Ah, ah, ah… not so fast, there. You’ve got to earn another bite, angel.” 

“What… uh…” Castiel swallowed thickly. “What do you want me to do?” 

Dean stared at Castiel’s lips before looking back up into his eyes. “I want you to-“

The sound of shuffling footsteps in the hall surprised them – alerting the pair to another’s imminent presence. Castiel looked to Dean for guidance. The man looked angry for a moment, but then adopted a mask of resignation as he sighed and guided Castiel to his feet, following the angel to a standing position. 

Dean quickly reversed their positions and gently pushed Castiel back down into the seat which he had just vacated – shoving the plate of half-eaten grilled cheese in front of him. He began to collect the other, empty plate and his own glass of milk, and was walking over to the sink when Kevin entered the kitchen. He was yawning and rubbing his eyes, and he flinched when he realized that he wasn’t alone.

“Oh. Hey, guys. What are you doing up?” Castiel busied himself with eating the rest of the sandwich. He tried not to look at Kevin or Dean, knowing that he was blushing something horrible at being caught out doing… whatever it was that they had been doing. 

“Midnight snack,” Dean responded. He seemed completely calm and collected – giving Kevin a disarming smile while he went about cleaning up the mess they had made when cooking. “How’d you get out of your room, Kev? I thought Tiger Mommy would have had you chained to the bed until you got your eight hours at least.”

Kevin laughed without much humor, going over to the refrigerator and pulling out a package of hotdogs. “You’re not that far off,” he told Dean. “I’m thrilled to have her back, but she can’t expect me to change my habits in one night, you know? A prophet can’t live off tofu alone.” 

“No one can live off tofu alone,” Dean agreed. He finished his cleaning efforts quickly, and soon he was collecting his phone from where he had left it on the counter and heading toward the doorway. “Well, enjoy your clandestine pork anuses, kid. I’m off to hit the hay.” 

“Night, Dean,” Kevin said, giving him a half-hearted wave while otherwise ignoring him and Castiel. 

Dean paused on the threshold and looked over to Castiel. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but instead he merely gave Castiel a sad smile and left the room. When Dean was gone, Castiel was left adrift. He didn’t know what to do now. Everything felt unfinished, confusing. Was he supposed to follow Dean? Should he stay here and keep Kevin company? 

The indecision and disappointment made the grilled cheese sit heavily in his stomach, and he couldn’t contemplate eating another bite. So he got up and threw away the rest of the sandwich, and put his dirty dishes into the sink. 

“Just leave that,” Kevin told him, gesturing to the dishes. “I’ll get ‘em when I wash my own.”

“Oh. Thank you, Kevin.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” Kevin seemed pretty focused on making his own meal – so much so that he didn’t even really notice or acknowledge Castiel heading toward the door. 

“Goodnight, Kevin,” Castiel said for form’s sake. Kevin just sleepily waved over his shoulder – never even turning around. 

He ended up outside Dean’s closed bedroom door, his hand poised to knock. He couldn’t bring himself to do it though. Dean hadn’t asked him to come, and he had told Kevin that he was going to ‘hit the hay.’ He wasn’t sure, but he believed that to be a euphemism for going to bed. Either way, an invitation had not been extended, so Castiel turned around and entered his own room instead – closing the door gently behind him. 

He sighed and padded silently over to the bed and lied down, alone. It was probably for the best, he thought, going over all of the day’s events and the various moods of Dean Winchester. It was all just so confusing to Castiel. Dean had completely run the gamut of strong emotions during the course of the day, and Castiel had had a difficult time keeping up with him. 

Perhaps he could get the Hunter to talk to him and express his thoughts and feelings in the morning. 

And perhaps the sun will revolve around the moon… or the King of Hell could all of a sudden start cuddling fluffy kittens in his spare time. 

It could happen… right?


	9. The Difference a Day Can Make

Dean felt like such an ass. 

As soon as he had closed his bedroom door, he was already regretting his actions in the kitchen. Unfortunately, his traitorous dick clearly didn’t agree…

“ _Fuck…_ ” Dean palmed himself and closed his eyes, thoughts racing over every sinful sound and hungry look that Cas had made. The solid, heavy weight of him slipping gracefully into Dean’s lap, and the warmth that had radiated from him – warmth that Dean had soaked up like a lizard basking upon rocks in the blazing desert sun. “Fuck!”

Ok, thinking about Cas certainly wasn’t helping the situation in his pants. But what else could he possibly be thinking about? In the space of a couple of days, the angel-turned-human had managed to become Dean’s main focus of attention. Not that he didn’t usually occupy a significant amount of Dean’s thoughts, but this was getting ridiculous. 

He wanted Cas so badly… wanted to touch him, kiss him, hold him in his arms and worship every inch of his newly human body. And in doing so, Dean wanted to shield and protect him – steal him away and selfishly keep Cas to himself, hidden from the prying eyes and roving hands of anyone who wasn’t named Dean Winchester. 

Dean began pacing the short width of the room – soon losing track of how much time passed while he went over and over the events of the day in his head. 

Cas had seemed pretty adamant that morning that he wasn’t interested in having Dean further his sexual education, which brought Dean back around to his original thought… He was such an ass! Cas had said ‘no thank you’ and Dean had proceeded to be a standoffish douche, then a possessive dick, and finally a boundary-crossing asshole. In that order. 

He tried to make himself feel better by reminding himself that he hadn’t _forced_ Cas to sit in his lap and eat from his hand. But then Dean remembered how Cas had spent several millennia following every shit order given to him, and Dean wondered if it would have even occurred to Cas to refuse Dean’s direct command if it had made him feel uncomfortable. 

“Shit. Fuck. Son of a bitch!” 

Dean turned and flung open his door, intent on seeking Cas out and apologizing for his shitty behavior. But as soon as he had stepped up to Cas’s door, poised to knock, doubt and shame filled him once again. So instead he turned and headed down the hall, intent on distracting himself. Because there was no way that he was going to be able to fall asleep anytime soon. 

Kevin was no longer in the kitchen, having obviously gone to bed. In fact, the Bunker was eerily silent, most of its inhabitants resting quietly. 

Well, there was one resident that was probably still awake… but Dean dismissed the idea almost as soon as he had thought of it. He was agitated, on edge, and willingly submitting himself to Crowley’s smug face and grating demeanor was probably not the best idea. 

Moving past the door to the dungeon, Dean walked toward the range, contemplating going back for some weapons to get in some practice. He ultimately decided against it, concerned that the noise may make its way back to the bedrooms and wake everyone. 

He thought about the fact that there were still several rooms and hallways that they hadn’t yet had the time to check out. Now seemed as good a time as any, so he passed the range and picked the door at the farthest end of the hallway, glad that he hadn’t yet settled for the night because that meant he still had his lock pick in the pocket of his jeans. 

He rattled the knob just to check, excited at the hollow echo he could hear through the thick wood. The room on the other side must be pretty large. 

A satisfying _click_ sounded and Dean pumped his fist in triumph before standing up and slipping the pick back into his pocket. The door opened up to a darkened stairway – up the only way to go. 

He was about to pull out his phone to use the flashlight when his fingers were met with a set of light switches just inside the door frame. He switched them all on and waited for for the glow to light the room and the stairway. 

Ascending the stairs slowly, Dean was prepared to face all manner of strange and/or horrible things. What he was not prepared for however, was what he actually saw when he reached the top of the stairway… A garage! Vintage cars and motorcycles were parked in almost every bay – gleaming steel beauties as far as Dean’s covetous eyes could see.

“ _Holy shit…_ ” Was this real? Or had he entered some sort of Men of Letters holodeck? Because this couldn’t be real… could it?

Dean squashed the urge to run back to wake Sam and Cas to show them his find. They were most likely sleeping, and anyway, Dean wanted to keep this to himself for a while longer. Perhaps his possessive instincts toward Cas could be circumvented while he was the only one permitted to look at and touch those metal gems. 

Well, Dean knew what he would be doing for the next several hours. Rolling up his sleeves (both physically and metaphorically), Dean knew that he probably had a look on his face just like Sam did when he first glimpsed the MOL library. And what’s more… he didn’t even care.

***

It was only the gnawing hunger and parching thirst that made Dean decide it was time to stop his tinkering. He decided that he should probably get something to eat, and when he glanced at his watch to see that it was already past 10:00am, he also thought that it might be a good idea to let someone else know where he was. 

He wandered back down the halls, going straight to the kitchen, but he stopped short before entering. Sam’s voice caught his attention and against his better judgement, he stayed out of sight so that he could eavesdrop. 

“What kind of eggs do you want, Cas?” Sam asked. Dean could smell the rich scent of coffee brewing and his stomach gurgled at the thought of breakfast. 

“Aren’t chicken eggs customary, Sam? Are there other options to choose from?” Dean muffled the snicker he couldn’t help but let out at Cas’s response. What a dork. 

“What I meant was, how would you like your eggs prepared, Cas?” 

“Oh. Well, I’m not sure. What would you recommend?” Dean imagined Cas done up in a fancy suit, sitting at a fancy table in a fancy restaurant, with Sam as his server holding a basket of eggs over one forearm. Maybe he should have tried to get at least a couple hours of sleep last night? He may just be getting delirious. 

“How about we start simple and go with scrambled? Would you take out some bread and put it in the toaster?” He assumed that Cas did as he was asked, and then Dean proceeded to listen to his brother and his best friend making small talk while they finished cooking their breakfast. He probably should have made himself known then, but he was spacing out somewhat – letting himself be lulled by the quiet domesticity of it all.

The next thing he knew, there was the sound of a chair scraping the floor, and then he heard Sam’s voice again. “Aren’t you going to sit, Cas? Your food will get cold if you don’t eat it right away.” 

Cas must have hesitated, because it was a few silent seconds before he asked, “You don’t want me to sit in your lap, do you, Sam?” 

And that was when Dean decided it was well past time for him to make his appearance, his boisterous, “Mornin’!” covering the sound of Sam’s coffee being sprayed all over his plate of eggs and toast as he choked on his drink. “You alright there, Sam?”

He stopped to slap Sam on the back a few times, and then stepped over to where Cas was hovering next to the table – taking his plate of food from him and setting it down on the table across from Sam, a quick nod to indicate that he should _sit in the chair, Cas, Jesus._

Sam recovered quickly, and thankfully didn’t bother responding to Cas’s unexpected question when the angel took a seat and began tucking into his meal. Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean popped some bread into the toaster and went about making his own breakfast.

“Sooo…” Dean began, easily drawing the attention of both Cas and Sam. “Guess what I found last night?” Neither answered him, so he continued. “I’ll give you a clue… It may just be the best Bunker feature of all.” 

Cas stopped eating and furrowed his brow, obviously putting a lot of thought into his potential answer. Sam chose the other route, flippantly guessing, “What? Did you find a distillery behind one of the locked doors?”

“Even better, Sammy. Even better.” Though now that he mentioned it… a distillery would be pretty awesome. 

“What did you find, Dean?” Apparently Cas wasn’t interested in guessing. He still had that serious look on his face though. 

“A garage!” The lack of enthusiasm in their responses was tragic, Dean thought. “And it’s full of mint-condition rides! How awesome is that?!”

Sam shrugged and nodded his head – interested, but not impressed. Cas’s answering smile was much more appropriate – wide and genuine – even if, as he suspected, the happiness was solely for Dean’s sake.

“Cool,” Sam said. “Did you find where it lets out?”

“Yeah, and I already moved the Impala inside. She looks so good in there.” 

“I’d be interested in seeing that,” Cas added. Images of Cas stretched out naked in Baby’s backseat… or maybe bent over her gleaming, black hood – moaning as Dean slowly, but thoroughly pounded into him from behind- “Dean?”

Dean snapped his mouth shut, belatedly realizing that he was outright staring at Cas, his dick rapidly hardening in his jeans. “Yeah, Cas, that would be great!” Turning back around, Dean finished cooking his eggs, trying and failing to ignore his persistent hard-on. “So, where are the Trans this morning?” 

“They’re outside getting some fresh air. Kevin hasn’t seen the sun in weeks and Linda thought that was unacceptable. So they’re walking around nearby.” Sam collected both his and Cas’s empty dishes and brought them to the sink to wash. “Which reminds me… I was thinking about starting up jogging again. Would you have any interest in joining me, Cas?”

“You think that’s such a good idea, Sam?” Dean asked before Cas could respond. “You’ll never heal if you keep pushing yourself.” 

“I’m feeling better every day, Dean. And I’ll be careful.” Dean just gave him a stern look, telling him without words that he’d better not be shitting him. “What do you say, Cas? Now that you’re human, you’re going to have to put effort into staying in shape.” 

Sam’s words were enough to have Dean thinking of at least six different ways that he could personally help Cas stay in shape, just off the top of his head. Give him a little time to think about it and- No. That’s exactly what he _shouldn’t_ be thinking about. 

“Yes, Sam. That sounds like an excellent idea. Aerobic activity is very good for the cardio-vascular system.” And again, if it’s aerobic activity that Cas wants…

“Great! How about we start tomorrow morning? Bright and early?” Cas simply nodded and stood up. “Oh, Dean, before I forget… I called Charlie to come and look at the map table. Maybe see if we can get to the bottom of what happened to the Bunker when the angels fell. She’ll be here later today.” 

“Awesome.” A loud yawn drew Dean’s attention and he looked over to see Cas stretching his arms up above his head, a thin strip of slightly tanned skin peeking out between the top of his pants and the hem of his t-shirt. It was toned and looked smooth and extremely lickable, and Dean had to avert his gaze before he did something that he knew he’d regret. 

“Naptime already, Cas?” Sam chuckled at Cas’s slight embarrassment, then added. “I know how you feel though. I could use some more rest as well. I think I’ll go lie down for a while.” 

“Yes. Perhaps I will retire as well. I found it very hard to get to sleep last night.” If Dean didn’t know better, he might think that Cas was fucking with him with that comment. Of course, that was probably just Dean’s out of control libido talking. Either way, Cas and Sam both left the kitchen without more than a nod in Dean’s direction. 

He had a fleeting thought that Cas and Sam might be trying to avoid him because he had been acting like such a douche the day before. He figured that he probably deserved it if that was the case, and then he wondered if punching himself in the dick would help matters. He figured it probably wouldn’t though, so instead he gobbled down his breakfast, quickly washed his dishes, and then headed off to his own room to grab a towel, his toiletry bag, and his ‘dead guy’s robe,’ as Sam called it. Maybe a hot shower and a long nap would do him some good. 

“Oh, hey, Cas.” Walking back out of his room, he almost literally ran into Cas, who was also headed to the showers, if his own armful of accessories was any indication. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Shit. What now? What he probably should have done was go right back into his room and wait until Cas was finished. But instead he found himself saying, “Need help finding the showers?” and then walking toward said showers with Cas following closely behind him. 

“Thank you, but Sam showed me around yesterday, so I already know where it is.” Dean nodded and kept up his steady pace, his heart hammering heavily in his chest at the prospect of a wet, naked Cas in his immediate vicinity. “There is something that I would like to ask you though.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Many different filthy possibilities ran swiftly though Dean’s mind… so many.

“I was wondering if you could teach me how to shave? It’s getting rather itchy.” He demonstrated by scratching the several-days-old scruff that was gracing his chin. 

“Uh… yeah. Sure thing, buddy.” Fuck. This was going to get awkward, wasn’t it?

Dean’s facial hair wasn’t quite as long as Cas’s, but it was long enough to warrant a shave. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. He could just demonstrate for Cas what to do. It would be fine.

Dean pulled out two disposable razors and a can of shaving cream from his bag and then indicated for Cas to step up to the sink next to him. There were several in a row on the wall opposite the half-walled shower stalls.

He then uncapped both the razors and the shaving cream – placing the former down on the sink edge, and the latter he held out to Cas. “Give me your left hand.” Cas obeyed, looking curious and interested, and only slightly flinching when Dean sprayed a dollop of white foam into the angel’s open palm. 

He did the same for himself and then set the can down before turning to face the mirror and catching Cas’s gaze in the reflection. “Now, cover your face with the foam anywhere you want to shave.”

He demonstrated for Cas, who sniffed the fluffy substance briefly and then proceeded to follow Dean’s example – methodically spreading the shaving cream over his cheeks and around his mouth, then down over the tantalizing expanse of his supple throat.

Dean swallowed reflexively watching him. Damn, that was one sexy neck…

Dean pushed that thought aside and rinsed his hands, then picked up the razor with Cas following suit. “Alright… now just pull the razor down, firmly, but gently. Watch me first.” 

Dean began to run the razor over his skin, starting with his right cheek. He glanced Cas staring at him attentively, a calculating look on his foamy face. It was sort of adorable how intent he seemed, but also a little intimidating – definitely not the same as teaching Sam back in the day. 

Cas watched until Dean was about halfway done, and then began work his own razor over his own skin, that calculating determined look focused on himself now. And Dean had a hard time continuing in his own task. Cas was as mesmerizing in this as he was in dispatching threats with his angel blade. He seemed adept in this new endeavor as well – not surprising really since there was technically a blade involved. 

And since when did Dean have a shaving kink? He thought about it for a moment and then realized that it was probably more of a general Cas kink. Cas could probably start making fart noises with his armpits and Dean would still get off on it. Ugh, maybe Dean just really needed to get laid. It had been quite a while, after all. 

“I really appreciate your help, Dean. I hope that you know that.” Dean snapped out of his internal musings and turned back to his own reflection, taking up the razor once again. 

“Yeah, it’s no problem, Cas. I’m happy to help.” For another couple of minutes, the soft scraping of the razor, interspersed with the rapid sloshing of the water in the basin to clean the blades were the only noises in the room. 

Then Cas spoke again. “You know, I almost asked Sam to show me how to do this. He’s been very helpful as well.”

“Is that right?” Dean asked. 

Cas chuckled and said, “Remember yesterday morning when you asked me if I wanted you to show me more of what you had taught me the night before?”

Dean’s wary attention was suddenly replaced by embarrassment as he vividly recalled Cas’s casual rejection. Remember? How could he possibly forget? “Uh… yeah, Cas. I remember.” 

“Well I probably shouldn’t have had such faith in my own abilities, because when we got back to the Bunker I realized that there were lessons that I needed to learn that you hadn’t yet had the opportunity to teach me.” Dean cut his gaze over to Cas’s reflection and saw that he had finished shaving and was now leaning in and turning his face left and right – closely assessing his competency with a razor. “Don’t worry though… Sam showed me everything else I needed to know.” 

“He wha-OW!” Dean watched in the mirror as a drop of crimson blood welled up from a nick that he’d just made on his neck – the bright red fluid making its way down his throat at a steady pace. 

“Are you alright, Dean?” Suddenly, Cas was right up next to him, grasping Dean’s hair to pull his head to the side so that he could get a better look at the cut. 

Dean wasn’t having it though – he pulled himself out of the angel’s clutches and rounded on him. “You let Sam show you that stuff?! _Sam?!_ Why didn’t you come to me?!”

Cas appeared quite taken aback at Dean’s outburst – stepping further away and lowering his gaze to the floor like an abused animal that knew he was about to be kicked.

“I-I… I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t realize that laundry was so important to you. I apologize for not seeking your advice.” 

Dean’s jealous rage dissipated somewhat when he ran over Cas’s words a second time in his head. “What do you mean, ‘laundry’?”

“Um… dirty clothes? Soiled garments? What else would I mean? Is there an alternate meaning of the word which I am unfamiliar with?”

“Sam helped you with laundry?” Dean still felt confused. 

“Yes.”

Ok, one more time, just to be sure he had it right… “So what you’re saying is that yesterday morning when I asked you if you wanted me to show you more, you thought I was talking about how to clean clothes… and you said ‘no,’ but then later realized you did need to know more about _cleaning clothes_ so you asked Sam and he showed you?”

“Yes, Dean. That is correct.” Now Cas was the one who seemed confused. 

“I was _not_ talking about laundry yesterday.” 

“You weren’t?” Cas squinted his eyes and tilted his head – a look so familiar that Dean couldn’t help smile at the absurdity of the whole situation. 

“Definitely not.” He stepped back up to the sink and quickly finished up shaving, happy to see that the small nick on his neck had already clotted. 

“Then what where you -- _oh_ …” Cas dropped his gaze again – this time in embarrassment, Dean thought. 

“Yeah… ‘oh’,” Dean replied, still frustrated by the misunderstanding, but now feeling much more hopeful about his current prospects. And it made him decide to throw caution to the wind and take a chance. It was what Dean was best at, after all. So he stepped in close and tilted Cas’s head up, waiting only long enough to glimpse the want in those deep, blue depths before leaning in and sealing their lips together. 

He went slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm the angel. His hands cradled Cas’s face as he bestowed a gentle, almost chaste press of his lips. He should have known better than to have any of his expectations met. Because instead of meekness and hesitance, what he got in return was an armful of dark-haired, blue-eyed exuberance. 

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled their bodies flush, hungrily devouring Dean’s mouth like a starving man devouring a juicy double cheeseburger. “ _Dean…_ ”

Dean groaned at the sound of his own name moaned out in Cas’s deep baritone. It was a sound that he’d longed to hear for so long, and the reality of it sent a shiver down his spine – anticipation causing his heart to beat faster with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

Catching on quickly that Cas was no wilting flower, Dean took a firm hold on his hair and pulled Cas’s head back, and then wasted no time in working his way over Cas’s freshly shaven jaw and down his smooth throat. Cas was panting already, his arousal as much evident in his breathy moans as in the insistent hardness making its presence known against Dean’s thigh. 

“I want… Dean, I-I… I _need_ …” 

“What do you want? Huh, Cas? What do you need, baby?” Dean knew exactly what it was that Cas wanted, what he needed. But he’d be lying if he said that coaxing such wanton sounds and pleas from the angel wasn’t a huge turn-on. 

And, _oh,_ the needy whimper that Cas let out at Dean’s chosen endearment was such beautiful music to his ears. He instantly made it his new mission in life to pull that sound out of Cas as often as possible. 

“I don’t know… I just _need…_ ” He began thrusting his hips in an unpracticed, though very enthusiastic manner, chasing the new, but no-doubt pleasurable sensation caused by the friction. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I know what you need.” He trailed his hands down Cas’s back and let them land heavily on his perfectly firm ass. Gripping tightly with both hands, he pulled Cas even closer – reveling in the sights and sounds and feel of his supremely sexy best friend grinding his hard cock against Dean’s oh, so willing body. “Do you want me to show you?”

“Yes, Dean! Show me! Teach me what to do, _please…_ ” Dean continued to kiss him, but he pulled his arms back to remove his overshirt. He broke the kiss briefly next, to pull his t-shirt up and over his head. 

He was surprised, but also pleased when Cas then proceeded to run his hands greedily over Dean’s newly exposed torso – his hot mouth following everywhere his hands had just touched. Dean let him explore for a little while, but then coaxed him back up and into a thorough kiss – distracting him long enough to grab the hem of Cas’s own t-shirt before tugging it up and off as well. 

Dean quickly shucked his shoes and tore off his socks, then resumed kissing while nudging Cas backwards towards the shower stalls. He stopped just short of the stall and broke away to start up the shower head. 

“What are you doing?” Cas asked, clearly not interested in anything that might involve Dean not kissing him for more than two seconds. 

“Shower, Cas. Remember?”

“No,” he growled in response, his hands finding their way to Dean’s belt and tugging ineffectually. 

“’No,’ you don’t remember?” Dean took pity on him and reached down to undo the belt himself, chuckling slightly when Cas batted his hands away to pop the button and unzip the zipper on his own. 

“No shower,” he clarified. “Just this.” Dean had to intervene once again – this time stopping Cas from yanking his pants and underwear down in one go. He worried that Cas’s haste would result in the type of grievous bodily harm that would end this party before it even had the chance to really begin. 

“Wait, Cas. Hold up for a minute.” He snatched the angel’s hands and brought them up to trap them against his chest, kissing his knuckles quickly. 

Cas was wily though, and not one to be deterred. He leaned up and kissed Dean again, distracting him with his tongue while he slipped his hands from Dean’s grasp and went right back to attempting to work Dean’s jeans down over his hips. “No. Want you.” 

Dean groaned at the very caveman-esque way in which Cas was displaying his single-minded determination. It was actually pretty hot, to be honest. But this was Cas’s first time and he didn’t want to rush it. So he took Cas’s hands once more and manhandled him into the neighboring stall and up against the tiled wall – kissing him forcefully and pinning his hands next to his head. “Patience, baby. For once, we have plenty of time, and I plan on making the most of it.” 

Cas closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. When he opened them again, he nodded once to Dean’s questioning look. Dean rewarded Cas’s self-control by releasing his wrists and kissing him again, then dropping his hands and slowly pulling down Cas’s sweatpants and black boxer briefs. Like almost everything else Cas had worn the last few days, they were Dean’s own, and he couldn’t help but groan lowly at the thought – his possessive streak practically purring when he unveiled Cas’s thick cock, flushed an angry red and already leaking… just for Dean, and not anyone else. 

He helped Cas remove them all the way, and then did the same to himself, leaving them both completely bare and staring hungrily at each other. Slow… that’s what Dean was supposed to be aiming for… right? 

On the other hand… since when had Dean Winchester ever been known for his restraint?

“Fuck it.” 

Dean surged forward pinned Cas against the wall, once more rapidly going over all of the dirty, wonderful things that he wanted to do with Cas… to do _to_ Cas. 

“Is this… ‘going… slow’?” Cas panted out between bruising kisses. “Oh! _Dean…_ ”

Dean took hold of Cas’s cock and gripped it firmly – jacking him smoothly with the help of the clear fluid pearling at the tip. 

“Later,” Dean said. “We can go slow later.” And then his mouth was fully occupied – kissing and licking his way down Cas’s torso until he was on his knees on the hard tile. Fuck, he was getting too old for this shit. 

The hard floor didn’t matter though. Nothing mattered but the velvety-smooth, heavy weight of Cas’s cock in his mouth; the bittersweet taste of him on Dean’s tongue; and the mind-meltingly perfect sounds coming out of Cas’s mouth. 

“Dean! _Oh…_ Ah! Holy Fa- Dean, your _mouth_!” He wasn’t very coherent, but somehow that made it even better. “Yes! Yes! Yes! _Dean…_ ” 

He was pressing his palms tightly against the wall, obviously trying to hold himself back. Dean appreciated his concern, but it really wasn’t necessary. In fact, he would prefer it if Cas would just let go. 

“Fuck my mouth,” he implored, pulling back momentarily to catch his breath in preparation. 

Cas whimpered and practically crumpled over into a hunched position. His hands grasped the short strands of Dean’s hair instinctively and he thrusted – not too deep or too sharp, almost hesitantly at first. 

He soon gained more confidence though, straightening back up and dropping his head back in bliss as he quickened his thrusts. Dean lifted his eyes so that he could watch Cas’s pleasure, and he wasn’t disappointed. The pure joy and ecstasy etched on every flat plane and curved angle… it was enough to have Dean close to coming without even a stroke to his own hardened length. 

Steam was now slowly creeping its way throughout the shower room – the heat making sweat begin to drip down both of their heated bodies. Dean simply tried to ignore it, but Cas raised one hand to swipe through the wetness on his forehead – dragging it through his unruly hair and slicking it back. 

He then dragged the hand back down over his chest and through the thin layer of perspiration before resting it back on the side of Dean’s head. He soon slowed down his thrusts and gazed adoringly at Dean while stroking his thumb over Dean’s sweat-slick and stubble-free cheek.

“You are so beautiful, Dean. So perfect. The way you make me feel, I… I just… Oh, _yes,_ Dean… _please…_ ” His eyes made a concerted effort to roll back into his head by the end of his statement, so Dean doubled his efforts – grabbing Cas’s ass in both hands and pulling him in as deep as he could manage. He swallowed – once… twice… a third time – and then pulled off completely so that he could jack Cas off at a rapid pace, his tongue peeking out to lick Cas’s slit. 

“Yes! Oh, yes! I… I’m… _Dean!_ ” Dean’s name was expelled from Cas’s mouth as forcefully as his come was expelled from his hard, twitching cock. Dean was ready for it though, and instead of looking straight ahead, he was looking up at Cas’s face – trying to commit this exact moment, and that exact look to memory. 

He felt the hot come land in sticky, wet stripes along his lips and cheeks. Then he dipped forward to take Cas back into his mouth for the last few drops. The spent angel groaned and leaned heavily down on Dean’s shoulder for a moment before removing his weight and carding his fingers lovingly through Dean’s sweaty locks. 

“Thank you…” His gratitude was one of the most heartfelt expressions that Dean had ever heard from the angel, and it warmed his heart and made him feel so damn proud of himself at the same time. 

He thought the moment had passed – that Cas was done and that Dean would need to take care of himself now, as Cas may not be aware of the social niceties in a situation such as this. 

He should have known by now that Cas would always find a way to surprise him. 

Apparently finding his second wind, Cas helped to pull Dean up to standing and kissed him like his life depended on it – seeming to not care one bit that his come was still liberally coating the lower half of Dean’s face. 

It was also clear that Cas understood that reciprocity was the name of the game, because he snaked a hand down between their bodies and grabbed ahold of Dean’s poor, neglected cock to begin stroking.

The slide bordered on abrasive though, and Dean hissed, wondering if it would be worth it to stop and go get his lube from across the room. On the one hand, yes, it would feel sooo much better. On the other hand, he was so hyped up that it probably wouldn’t take more than a handful of strokes to finish him off, so was it really worth getting the lube? 

In the end it didn’t actually matter, because Cas was a filthy genius and took matters into his own hands… literally. He brought his hand up to Dean’s face and wiped off his own come, gathering it in his palm and slathering it all over Dean’s over-heated cock before resuming his stroking. 

“Oh, _fuck_ , Cas. That’s so fucking hot.” Cas didn’t give him the opportunity to say anything else – swiftly and gracefully reversing their positions so that it was Dean’s back pushed up against the wall with Cas crowding in on him. 

He continued to kiss Dean senseless while jerking him off for an embarrassingly short amount of time, and then he was coming too – thick spurts of creamy white, a tangible manifestation of the metaphorical fireworks going off inside Dean’s body. 

The act itself was sloppy; juvenile; a poor example of Dean’s purported prowess in the sack. 

But even the most skilled; the most accomplished; the most legendary night spent in any other sexual partner’s company paled in comparison to this first time with Cas. It felt a million times better than it ever had before, and even Dean ‘doesn’t do chick flick moments’ Winchester couldn’t pretend as though he didn’t know why… 

It was because Dean Winchester was in love.


	10. A Whole Lot of Lovin’ Going On

Dean had always assumed that when, and if, this moment ever came, that it would be scary (there hadn’t been many things in his life that weren’t, to be honest). And it was scary. It was terrifying to admit to himself that he was truly, and deeply in love with his best friend. 

The fear was of a different sort than one might expect though. Sure, he worried how Sam would react when he found out, which was nothing compared to the thought of what his father would think if he were alive to know that the love of Dean’s life had a dick. And yeah, the prospect of committing himself to one person for the rest of his life (and quite possibly longer) was daunting, no lie. 

But the truly terrifying prospect was living _without_ him. Now that Dean had had a taste, he didn’t think that he could bear to give him up. If Cas didn’t feel the same, it may just kill him. But Dean had to take the risk. He was already in too deep to even think about turning back now. 

Rolling the words of his epiphany over in his head, Dean tried to focus instead on the feel of Cas’s smooth, firm muscles as Dean ran his wet, soapy hands soothingly over the expanse of Cas’s back and shoulders. 

Arching into the touch like a purring cat, Cas was more irresistible than he could possibly know. Even the anxiety that was currently tying Dean’s tongue couldn’t compete when faced with the sex appeal of a supple, soaped-up former Angel of the Lord. 

“Come here, baby,” Dean coaxed. “Lean back against me.” Cas did as he was bid – resting his head on Dean’s shoulder and exposing his throat so that Dean’s mouth could pay it the proper attention. He slowly brought his hand up to grip Dean’s short hair, encouraging him to continue. 

“Dean?” It was the first word he’d said since Dean had ushered him under the hot spray of the running shower. 

“Hm?” Dean snaked one hand around Cas’s waist, and the other around his chest, hugging Cas close with a palm over his heart – the strong beat reassuring in its steadiness. 

“I want to… I mean, if you want to that is… Would it be ok if we…” 

Dean spun Cas around so that they were looking at each other, and then tipped his face up with a gentle grasp on his chin. His blue eyes widened under Dean’s focused attention, and he swallowed audibly before continuing.

“Can we do that again?” 

The innocence and hope written all over his face had Dean torn between the instinctual urge to shelter and protect him, and the more base desire to absolutely ruin him. “That and so much more, baby.” Cas’s answering smile was one of pure happiness. “There is so much more that I want to teach you.”

Dean leaned forward and caught Cas’s lips in a tender kiss. It probably would have built into something more, but Cas broke away for a jaw-cracking yawn.

“But I guess those lessons will have to wait.” He chuckled and smiled indulgently at the sleepy angel. Cas’s face morphed into a look of contrition, but Dean reassured him with another quick kiss and a firm, playful slap to his ass before guiding him back under the spray.

They finished washing up and then headed out of the shower room, clad simply in towels slung around their waists. Dean let Cas precede him down the hall so that he could admire the trim shape of Cas’s body, as well as the mesmerizing sway of his terry cloth covered hips. 

It was so mesmerizing in fact, that it took him a few moments to realize that Cas had walked into Dean’s room instead of his own. Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous, but Dean surely didn’t mind. If Cas wanted to share Dean’s bed, Dean certainly wasn’t going to object. 

He closed the door behind him and was about to put some clothes on when his attention was drawn to Cas, who had simply dropped his towel in a heap on the floor and proceeded to burrow under the covers of Dean’s bed, settling down with his head on the pillow and a contented sigh. 

Following his lead, Dean shrugged and let his own towel slip down to join Cas’s on the floor before switching off the lights and sliding into his place on the bed. Despite being daytime, the windowless room was very dark, but that didn’t hamper Dean’s ability to find Cas’s lips for a heated kiss. 

“Is there something wrong with your bed?” Dean asked when he pulled back. 

“No,” Cas answered, sounding unsure. After another moment he sat up suddenly and swung his feet down to rest on the floor. “Oh, I apologize, Dean. I shouldn’t have presumed… I can go back to my own room.” 

“No! Cas, no.” Dean dragged him back down and pinned him to the bed before he could get any other ridiculous ideas. “That’s not what I meant.” He carded his fingers through Cas’s damp hair to help him regain his former state of relaxation. “You mentioned that you hadn’t slept much last night, I just wanted to know why.”

“It was… too quiet,” he answered softly. “And I found that I…” 

Dean waited for him to continue, but when it didn’t look like he was going to, Dean leaned down and began to place gentle kisses to his throat. “What, baby? What did you find?” 

“I found that I… I missed you.” Dean’s eyes had adjusted to the very low amount of light in the room by that point, so when he lifted his head back up, he could clearly see the vulnerability in Cas’s dark, blue eyes. For that reason, he hoped that Cas could see the sincerity in his own answering smile, as well as hear it in his response. 

“I missed you too.” It was true, he had missed Cas. It was more than that though. “And I’m sorry, Cas.” He sighed and moved to lie next to Cas instead of on top of him, propping his head up with one hand. 

“Sorry about what, Dean?”

“I’m sorry I acted like such a dick yesterday. Even if the reason for it had been true – which it hadn’t – you still didn’t deserve to be treated like that.” 

Cas mirrored Dean’s position and said, “I’ll admit that I still do not fully understand everything that happened yesterday. It seems as though living the human experience does not automatically come with being able to comprehend the actions of other humans. Would you be willing to tell me exactly what I did wrong so that I will be less likely to displease you in the future?”

While Cas’s submissive attitude did kind of break Dean’s heart, he would be lying if he said that it didn’t also sooth his selfish, dominant side. He knew that Cas’s main concern probably shouldn’t be pleasing Dean, but the fact that it was gave a definite boost to his ego.

“Cas, you didn’t do anything wrong. You misunderstood what I was asking you so your answer fucked me up.” He cupped Cas’s jaw with his free hand and began to caress his cheek with his thumb. “I’ve wanted you for so long. And then when I thought I finally had the chance to have you, you told me that you weren’t interested-“

“I _never_ said that I wasn’t interested, Dean.”

“I know that _now_ , Cas, but at the time I thought you were rejecting me. It hurt.” 

“I’m sor-“ Dean cut off Cas’s apology with a kiss. 

“Like I said, Cas – you didn’t do anything wrong. You have nothing to apologize for.” Cas’s small smile was hidden when he lowered his head self-consciously. “I do have a question though.” Cas lifted his head again, encouraging Dean on with a questioning look. “Why didn’t you say anything about that night? Was it really that underwhelming?”

Cas laid back down, throwing an arm over his face and surprising Dean by laughing. “Honestly?” he said. “I thought the whole thing was a dream. I only knew that we’d actually kissed when you alluded to it outside the bar last night.” 

“A dream?” Dean responded, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all.

“Yes. I’ve had several very vivid dreams with similar themes the last few nights.” 

“Oh, really now?” Dean leaned closer, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Feel like telling me about some of these dreams, Cas?” He pulled the blankets down slowly, uncovering Cas’s body down to his waist, before kissing the newly exposed skin.

“The first one took place in the back seat of the Impala,” Cas began. And oh Christ, he didn’t even have to say more than that for Dean’s mind to start wandering through all of the dirty thoughts he’d ever had about the angel and the Impala. 

“The Impala, huh? And just what was happening in the Impala?” Cas moaned and jerked his hips up when Dean’s mouth found purchase on one of his small, dusky nipples. 

“I was uh… I was lying beneath you.” Cas had relaxed his legs so that they were splayed enough for Dean to deftly maneuver himself between them.

“Like this?” Dean asked. Cas opened his legs further, allowing Dean room to lower himself in close – almost, but not quite touching from chest to groin. 

“Yes,” Cas said, his voice husky. “Except you were um… you were…”

“I was what, hm?” Instead of answering, Cas dragged his heal up the back of Dean’s leg and nudged his thighs further apart, causing Dean’s dick to slip down past Cas’s balls and land snugly between his ass cheeks. It was abrupt and a bit unexpected, but it didn’t fail to get the point across. “Oh, _fuck_.”

“Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly what you were doing.” Cas’s breathing had started to speed up – his words panted out into Dean’s ear as he buried his face in Cas’s neck to suck a bruising kiss. 

“What do you say, Cas? Feel like livin’ the dream?” He accentuated his question with a few slow thrusts. Cas squirmed beneath him, adding deliciously to the friction. 

“Yes. I think I’d like that very much.” Dean kissed him and then moved to get up off the bed, but Cas grabbed his wrist and clung to his arm. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to grab something.” He clicked on a lamp and retrieved the lube from his bag before going back to join Cas on the bed. Throwing the covers off of Cas and down to the end of the bed, Dean sat back on his heals between Cas’s legs and smoothed his hand up and down Cas’s thigh. “You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Because you know that it’s ok to say ‘no,’ right? You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. And I know I was a dick to you yesterday, but I promise that I won’t hold it against you if you change your mind at any point-“

“Dean,” Cas interrupted, sitting up and taking Dean’s face between his own two hands. “I want this. I promise you.” There was no missing the sincerity in Cas’s deep, blue gaze. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

Dean surged forward and kissed Cas hard. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” Dean kissed him again. “Say it again.” 

“I want this… I want you.” Cas let himself be guided back down to lie on his back, Dean kissing him the whole way. 

Instead of lying on top of him though, Dean settled himself on his side next to him and angled Cas to mirror his position before reaching down and gripping him behind the knee. He pulled Cas’s leg up to rest over Dean’s thigh which spread his legs enough for Dean to reach down and place one slicked up finger against Cas’s exposed hole. 

The first cool touch caused a shiver to run through Cas’s body that Dean could feel echoed in his own. He tried to be gentle as he worked Cas open, but it was hard to do when his touch seemed to spark a fire within the angel – one that burned brightly, causing him to pant and moan as he swiveled his hips and kissed Dean breathless. 

“Dean! Yes! _Oh… yes…Dean!_ I need you to… _please…_ I want you to…”

“What do you want, baby? Hm? Come on, Cas… Tell me… I want you to say it.” Cas whined in response, speeding up the thrust of his hips as he fucked himself on Dean’s fingers. 

“I want you to… fuck me,” he whispered into Dean’s neck. Dean smirked at the sound of the unaccustomed profanity coming out of the angel’s mouth, but he wasn’t going to let him off that easy. 

“What was that, Cas? I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” 

Cas huffed and pulled his head back up, then abruptly pushed Dean onto his back and quickly straddled his hips. He leaned down menacingly, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide, and Dean vividly recalled another time that Cas had looked like that in a filthy back alley in the middle of the apocalypse. “I want you. To _fuck_ me. Ok?!” 

Dean smirked up at the looming angel – hair mussed and chest heaving – and thought to himself that he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

“As you wish.” Dean had the delight of seeing the surprised look on Cas’s face as he surged up and grabbed him around the waist, wrestling him back down to the bed and distracting him with a kiss while he quickly slicked up his own cock. Then he pulled Cas’s leg up to wrap around his hip and positioned himself before thrusting home in one firm motion. 

“Dean!” Dean’s pleasured groan was drowned out by Cas’s exclamation – his head jerking back on the pillow, exposing his neck perfectly for Dean to bury his face in it. He would have worried that he might have hurt Cas if he hadn’t instantly grabbed Dean’s ass with both hands and began grinding his hips.

Dean only gave himself a moment to get his shit together before he propped himself up and began thrusting in earnest. “Oh, _Jesus_ , Cas, you feel so good. So hot and _tight_.” 

Dean didn’t know how long he would be able to last. He hadn’t come that long ago, but the feel of Cas’s body welcoming him so perfectly, and the genuine pleasure his partner was expressing was definitely doing it for Dean. 

Trying to prolong the experience, Dean slowed his movements and leaned down to kiss Cas thoroughly. It was sensual and so unbelievably tender that Dean had to work very hard not to break down and confess his undying love. 

He was pretty sure that Cas understood anyway because the look on his face when Dean finally pushed himself back up was the sappiest look that he’d ever seen on another person. He could practically see the hearts in Cas’s shining blue eyes, and he was almost positive that there was a similar look reflected in his own green ones. 

“ _Dean…_ ” Not quite sure if he was ready for that level of sharing and caring, Dean cut off whatever Cas may have been about to say by the simple expedient of sealing their lips together – plundering Cas’s mouth with his tongue and then picking up the pace of his thrusts. 

He was getting close – so, so close – so he licked his palm and reached down to wrap his hand around Cas’s equally hard cock. Cas bucked up into the touch and Dean felt a pulse of pre-come leak from his tip. Swiping his thumb up over his head, he used the extra wetness to ease his stroking – something that Cas seemed to really appreciate. 

“Do you like that, Cas? Does it feel good?” Cas made a sound that could only be called a whimper, nodding his head and scrunching his eyes closed. “Tell me, baby. Use your words.” 

Cas whined again and threw his head back, breath coming out in harsh gasps. “Good. It feels good.” He was squirming unceasingly at that point, his head tossing back and forth, his arms thrown wide so that he could grip the sheet tightly. “Fuck! Dean! I’m going to… you’re going to make me…” 

“You gonna come, angel? You gonna come for me?” Cas swallowed audibly and nodded his head rapidly. 

“Yes! Dean! I’m going to c-come. Yes! Make me come!” Dean doubled his efforts with his cock and his hand – no easy feat, mind you. He was starting to drip with sweat – the combined heat of their bodies making Cas glisten as well. Dean leaned down to lick a drop of perspiration from Cas’s throat and then sunk his teeth down hard enough to bruise.

His hips stuttered to a stop as he felt himself spill inside of Cas, extremely satisfied to feel the tight grip on his cock grip even tighter – contracting around him when he felt the warm wetness of Cas spilling over his fist and onto his own stomach. 

Dean hadn’t felt so utterly sated and spent in a very long time… possibly ever. The last thing that he wanted to do was move. But if he didn’t do so soon, he just might stay right where he was until the end of time. 

So with a feat of unbelievable strength, and a great gusty sigh, Dean pushed himself up and kissed Cas deeply before dragging himself to his feet. He plucked one of their towels off the floor and wetted it at the sink, quickly rinsing off his hands, and then brought it back to the bed. 

Cas was still lying there looking dazed, and Dean couldn’t blame him. He felt pretty dazed as well. Instead of saying anything right away, Dean simply went about wiping Cas clean with gentle attention. Pausing only briefly to admire the marks that he’d left on Cas’s throat, Dean then threw the towel back to the floor, clicked off the lamp, and lied down next to Cas – pulling the blankets back up to cover them and gathering the pliant man up into his arms, guiding his head to rest over Dean’s heart. 

They lied there like that for several long minutes, Dean carding his fingers through Cas’s soft locks while the angel clung to him. The quiet was peaceful and comfortable, and Dean’s eyes were beginning to droop when he heard Cas speak… “Dean? Do you love me?” 

Dean’s hand only faltered for a moment before he resumed his petting, and he was thoroughly surprised when the question didn’t cause panic to set in. If fact, he found it simple and easy to answer it… much easier than he would have thought. 

“Yeah, Cas. I do.” 

“Good,” Cas answered, squeezing him firmly in a hug before relaxing against him once again. “Because I love you too.”


	11. Asked and Answered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life's been rough. 
> 
> Enjoy the smut. <3

“Just where do you think you’re going?” 

Castiel had been sure that Dean was still fast asleep when he began to creep slowly and silently out of the bed to get a drink of water for his parched throat. Apparently he had been mistaken. 

“Oof!” he exclaimed as Dean snaked a hand around his waist and yanked him back down onto the mattress. In the next instant there was a very large, perfectly stunning human with sparkling green eyes and a light dusting of freckles looming above him, insinuating himself between Castiel’s legs and caging him in with his bulging biceps. 

“You tryin’ to sneak out on me, Cas?” Castiel was proud to admit that he had gotten pretty good at reading Dean’s facial expressions after so many years of studying them quite closely. He could even often tell when Dean’s face and his words were at odds. Once in a while though, he couldn’t say with confidence exactly what it was that Dean really meant. And this was one of those times. 

“Of course not. I was simply getting up to get a drink of water.” Dean stared searchingly into Castiel’s eyes, probably wondering if he were telling the truth, though Castiel didn’t know why Dean would have any reason to doubt his word… especially in something as trivial as this. 

“You thirsty, baby?” Dean inquired before leaning in for a quick, but thorough kiss. 

“Yes, Dean. Very thirsty.” Dean gave him a very attractive smirk and rolled his body against Castiel’s, causing him to groan and slip his eyes closed to bask in the sensual feel of it. 

Much too soon the weight of Dean’s body was gone and Castiel was left cold and alone. He opened his eyes to glare his displeasure at the terrible turn of events, but Dean was already on his way back to the bed with a glass of water in hand. 

“Drink up, baby bird. Can’t have you dying from dehydration.” Castiel propped himself up on his elbows and reached one hand out for the glass, but instead Dean brought the cool cup right up to Castiel’s lips and assisted him in tipping his head back so that he could take a drink. 

They continued on in that fashion until the glass was emptied, then Dean set it on the bedside table and joined him back under the covers. Castiel was grateful for the other man’s warmth, and even more grateful when Dean resumed his former position on top of him, this time going straight for a deep, searching kiss before moving on to trail a series of licks and nibbles down the column of his throat.

Castiel instinctively wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist when he let their groins press together – their hardening lengths sliding smoothly with the slow undulation of their hips. 

“I need you, Cas… Need to be inside you again.” Dean reached down and began kneading his ass – pressing them even closer together and eliciting a filthy moan from Castiel’s lips. 

“Yes! Yes, Dean… want you inside me. _Please_ …” 

Dean pulled back just long enough to grab the nearby bottle of lube and squirt some onto his fingers. And before Castiel even had time to miss him, he was back in close and circling one slick finger around Castiel’s tender hole. He was still somewhat sore from their first time, but he didn’t mind. He’d suffered much worse pain for much less pleasure, and there was nothing that would stop him from getting to feel Dean within him once more.

Dean proceeded slowly, giving Castiel ample time to readjust to the burning stretch of his thick fingers. Meanwhile, he lavished Castiel’s heated skin with ample attention from his mouth. His lips and tongue and even his teeth mapped out every sensitive spot that Castiel hadn’t even been aware of possessing, leaving him panting and moaning like some sort of animal in heat, unable to stop himself even if he had wanted to. 

“ _Dean… please…_ ” Castiel cried out when a particularly well-aimed thrust of Dean’s fingers coincided with a sharp bite to an especially sensitive spot on Castiel’s throat. 

With a low groan and barely a second’s loss of that delicious feeling of fullness, Dean replaced his nimble digits with his equally skillful cock, picking up a slow, but effortlessly smooth rhythm which consumed Castiel from the inside out. 

For a little while Dean seemed completely focused on the new task at hand, burying his face in Castiel’s shoulder and pumping his hips forward and back. Castiel felt the loss of Dean’s talented mouth and was about to protest its lack, but then Dean began to speak and Castiel was far too distracted to care.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Cas… what you’ve always done to me…” He propped himself up so that he could place his sweat-slicked forehead against Castiel’s own. “I’ve known want before… known it countless times with countless people…” A sharp burst of black jealousy shot through Castiel’s chest at Dean’s admission. “But I’ve never known need,” he continued. “Not like this. Not until you.”

“Dean…”

“I need you so badly, Cas.” He picked up the pace of his thrusts, his accelerated breathing beginning to match Castiel’s panting breaths. “I have for so long.” Lifting his upper body up by the palms of his hands, Dean then looked down on Castiel with a new and exhilarating intensity. “Tell me that you need me too,” he demanded.

“Dean, I-“

Before he could get out another word, a perfunctory knock sounded on the bedroom door before it was opened wide, Sam’s voice preceding him. “Dean, have you see- _Jesus, Dean, what the hell?!_ ”

Castiel froze and began to panic internally. He was completely unprepared for the situation in which they now found themselves. His only saving grace, he thought, was that owing to Dean’s position and the location of the door, Sam could not see who Dean was with. Because while he wasn’t sure about much, he _was_ pretty sure that Dean wouldn’t want his brother to know about what they were doing.

And his belief was only backed up by the way the Dean hunched his body even more closely over Castiel, shielding him completely from Sam’s prying eyes. With his body tensed, he turned his head to scowl at his brother. “Ever heard of knocking, Sam?”

Completely ignoring Dean’s question, Sam responded, “We’ve talked about this, Dean! No bringing your conquests back to the bunker! And when did you even go out? I thought you were sleeping?”

“I didn’t-“ Dean sighed heavily and shifted his position slightly, causing Castiel to clench and let out a most undignified, though half-stifled, moan. He regretted it immediately but he couldn’t help it, it just felt so good. Dean swore under his breath in response and tensed even more, his jaw ticking with frustration. “What the hell do you want, Sam? I’m kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Charlie has been here for like two hours and I can’t find Cas. Do you know where he went?” 

Dean snorted and Castiel swallowed heavily, wondering what lie he would tell his brother. To his great surprise though, Dean simply leaned to the side so that Castiel’s head and shoulders were no longer hidden and said, “Uh, Sam…” 

“Cas?!” Castiel’s grasp of proper human etiquette was spotty at best, but in a situation such as this one, he was pretty sure that there was no ‘right’ way to respond. Therefore, he decided to go with his usual habit of profound understatement. 

“Hello, Sam.” 

“Um… hey, man. Sorry, I just… uh, well, that is to say-“ Castiel had never seen Sam’s face flush red so fast, and he couldn’t help the responding smile that rose to his own face at the sight. His view was soon obstructed once again though when Dean returned to his previous position, shielding Castiel from view. 

“So if that’s all…” Castiel fully expected that to be the end of the conversation and for Sam to finally retreat, but before any of that could happen, another, clearly feminine voice rang out beside the younger Winchester. 

“Hey, Sam! Is Dean in there? Hey, D- _oh my God!_ ” 

Dean quickly craned his neck around to see the newcomer, but from the sound of things, either she or Sam rapidly rethought the advisability of a face-to-face communication and slammed the bedroom door shut. 

“ _We’ll just talk later! Take your time!_ ” Came the woman’s voice, muffled through the door.

“She seems nice-“ Castiel was abruptly silenced when Dean surged forward and reclaimed his lips. Apparently not one to be daunted by an audience, Dean enthusiastically resumed his thrusts as if nothing had interrupted them in the first place.

“Forget about them,” he commanded. “I’m the only one who should be in your thoughts right now.” 

“You are, Dean,” Castiel assured him. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Castiel nodded repeatedly, stopping only when Dean pressed their lips together once again. “Good.” 

Suddenly, Dean pulled out and reared up, then used all his strength to flip Castiel over onto his stomach before grasping him by the hips to pull his ass up into the air. And while Castiel was still reeling from the awesome show of power, Dean slid his hardened length right back in with one hard thrust.

“Dean!” Castiel exclaimed, his strong, angelic voice reduced to a pleading whimper. 

Dean responded by draping himself over Castiel’s body and gentling his fingers through the dark, sweaty locks of Castiel’s hair. “Tell me, Cas…” He resumed the thrusting of his hips, but just barely – pulling out a scant inch or two before pushing back in, as though he couldn’t bear to put even that much distance between them. “Tell me that you’re mine, that you’ll always be mine.” 

The fact that Dean was the one, singular being in all of existence to have shown Castiel the importance and superiority of free will surprisingly did not affect his reaction to Dean’s demand. No, the irony was not lost on him. He just simply did not care. Because the request, such as it was, was as easy as breathing. 

“Yours, Dean. Now and forever. Surely and completely.” He turned his head to the side to meet Dean’s eyes, an answering devotion shining back at him. Castiel then closed the gap to bestow a tender kiss. 

The moment was perfect, everything he’d never known that he’d needed and more. And while it would stay with him always, Dean wasn’t interested in letting it end there. He deepened the kiss with a forceful surge, ending with a sharp nip of Castiel’s swollen, spit-slick lower lip, and with a predatory smirk he rose up to his knees and took a firm hold of Castiel’s hips before proceeding to fuck him as though his life depended on it.

Dean’s joy and exhilaration was as clear and exultant as God’s light on the first day of creation. He shone with it. Exuded it. And Castiel couldn’t help but let it bolster his own mood. Not that his mood was at all low to begin with, but with the added high of Dean’s happiness…

“Yes! Oh, yes!” A litany of praise began to fall from Castiel’s mouth and he could feel Dean’s fingers press bruises into his hips, felt his own cock throb and leak in response to the sensation. He was getting close again. Close to that utterly perfect explosion of pleasure and freefall into blissful satiation. If only he could… “I need more,” he begged. “Just let me…”

He moved one hand to touch himself but Dean intercepted him, grasping his wrist and then wrapping an arm around Castiel’s waist to hoist him upright, both of them on their knees, Castiel’s body clutched tightly in his hold. 

He whined in frustration at the denial and Dean was quick to shush him. Castiel cock was practically screaming for attention but he wasn’t left hanging for long. In the next moment, Dean brought Castiel’s hand up to his mouth and licked his palm with long, messy swipes of his tongue before guiding it back down to wrap around himself – Dean’s own, strong hand covering Castiel’s and helping to pace his strokes to match Dean’s perfect thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby,” he cooed softly. “Make yourself come for me. You’re so pretty when you come, Cas. I could watch you like this all day.” 

Castiel was too far gone to respond coherently. He simply moaned and whined and made these breathy, little noises that he’d never heard himself make before. 

“Come on, Cas. Don’t hold back now. I want to hear you… want to hear you say my name as you come for me, angel.” 

And he did. Heaven help him, he did. 

“Dean!” he shouted, locking up as he climaxed in rapturous perfection. 

It took him several very long moments to reorient himself to his surroundings, his body sagging in a blissful puddle back down on the mattress, Dean’s own heavy bulk draped around him like a cloak. 

He could feel Dean placing delicate kisses on the skin of his neck and shoulders while his hand busied itself with stroking up and down his flank. 

He sighed contentedly and let his eyes slipped closed once more, a comfortable heaviness settling upon him like the effects of the alcohol a couple of nights previous had done. Only for a moment though, because that’s when he remembered that Dean’s pleasure was of equal importance and he struggled to rouse himself so as to aid in his release. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asked, tightening his arm around Castiel’s waist so that he would stop struggling. 

“You still need to reach climax, Dean. It was rude of me not to keep going.” Dean’s hold was too firm for Castiel to get back up on his knees, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to roll his hips in short undulations. 

The movement elicited a beautiful moan from Dean’s lips and an interested twitch from Dean’s cock, but it was clear that the previously rock-hard member was softening, and there was additional wetness to contend with that made it apparent that Castiel’s intentions were unnecessary. 

“Oh,” he said when he realized, which evoked a low chuckle from Dean that warmed Castiel’s heart and brought a lazy smile to his kiss-bitten lips. 

“Yeah… ‘Oh,’” Dean parroted, snuggling even closer (if that was possible) to Castiel and resuming his rhythmic petting. “You’re perfect like this, you know?” Castiel hummed in response, quietly meditating on the concept of perfection, and personally agreeing that Dean’s assessment might be accurate. “I’m seriously considering barring that door and threatening death and/or dismemberment to anyone who tries to come in here and bother us again.” 

The memory of Sam stunned face quickly jumped to Castiel’s mind and he couldn’t help but beam at the thought of Dean’s easy and open acceptance of the change in their relationship. Dean’s honesty and lack of shame with his brother was the strongest proclamation of his love that Castiel could ever hope to receive… even more so than the words themselves. Which reminded him…

“Thank you, Dean,” he began, catching Dean’s hand and bringing it up to place a kiss to the warm, calloused expanse of his palm. “For not lying to Sam about us,” he clarified. 

“Not like we could really hide it,” he said. “Even if I wanted to, which I don’t…” He brought his hand back down and pinched Castiel’s behind, which resulted in a surprised yelp. “You’re pretty loud.” 

Castiel elbowed him lightly in the ribs and they both laughed. “I could say the same about you.”

“Touché.” One more noisy kiss to the back of Castiel’s shoulder and then Dean was rolling away and getting to his feet, leaving Castiel to slump over onto his back and watch as he stretched and groaned, his back popping in several spots. “Speaking of Sam though… and Charlie too for that matter… We probably shouldn’t make them wait too long. Their poor, nerdy hearts will most likely burst if they don’t get to shout their ‘I told you sos’ at me soon.” 

Castiel smiled shyly at that – the thought of a positive response to their burgeoning relationship from outside sources making him feel infinitely light and happy. “Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, now would we?” 

“No, we wouldn’t,” he agreed, distractedly. Instead of moving toward leaving the room though, Dean rejoined Castiel on the bed instead. “They’ll probably last just a little bit longer without us, right?”

“I don’t see why not.” And if Sam and Charlie had to wait another forty five minutes for their long-awaited congratulations and smug, self-satisfied smiles… well, what was three quarters of an hour in the overall, grand-scheme of things?


End file.
